


Never Felt Like This Before

by DoctorV



Category: Phineas and Ferb
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Character(s) of Color, Cuddling & Snuggling, Deaf Character, Dom/sub Undertones, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Fluff, Human Perry the Platypus (Phineas and Ferb), Human Peter, Illustrations, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, Nerdiness, Not-Star Trek/Star Wars, OWCA, Sexting, Shower Sex, Sign Language, Slow Burn, Slow Dancing, Texting, internalized ableism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 00:25:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 50,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6729724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorV/pseuds/DoctorV
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter wasn't expecting to make a friend during a mutual "walk of shame," but now he has a text buddy and he's getting closer to him than he ever meant to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shameless

**Author's Note:**

> Wow! Who's ready for ungodly amounts of fluff, huh? :D  
> This is...I don't even know what it is. It's an AU, that's for sure. Human AU as well as AU from [Just Another Dull and Boring Day](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4360085), though I'm using the same general characterization for Peter (as little "screentime" as he got in it). So...yeah. Not the sequel or prequel to Day that I've been planning, but rather an AU drabble that got out of hand and is now over 27k long and still going. I've no idea how long this will eventually be. Will I manage to hit 50k? We'll see, I guess!
> 
> As with Day, I'll be updating this once a week. New chapter every Wednesday! (Or as close to it as I can get, anyway. Having some internet issues at home, so I'm having to post this from a campus computer.)  
> This time, though, there's a fun bonus! Well, two, actually. **First bonus:** illustrations! :D [Grayce Adams](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RenetteHollow391/pseuds/Grayce%20Adams) has been creating illustrations for this story and, provided I can get the formatting to work, they will be posted within the actual body of the text!  
>  **Second bonus:** I have [a Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/grayceanddoc?ty=h)! Actually it's a joint patreon, with Grayce. Why is this a bonus? Because I'm posting chapters there a week early! So while you're reading the first chapter of this, our patrons are already on chapter two. If you like what you read here, and you like Grayce's art, why don't you come on over and pledge $7 or more a month, so you can get in on that! :D

 

The hallway's nearly empty as Peter shuts the door behind himself, humming a little under his breath. He's off-key as hell, he knows, but he's never really cared about that. What matters is that he had a pretty great time last night and he's in a good mood this morning.

The guy a few doors down, on the other hand, looks a little shellshocked. It has a bubble of concern growing in Peter's chest, which melts into sympathy when the guy looks up and gives him a faint, sickly sort of smile and asks, "Walk of shame?"

Peter pulls his notepad from his back pocket and scribbles a response as he walks closer, holding it up when he's about a foot from the man. **_Only walk of shame if UR ashamed._ **

After leaning closer to read the note, the man glances up at him and Peter gives him a wink and a bit of a leer. That startles a laugh from the man and some of the hollowness fades from his expression. "I suppose that's a healthier way to look at it."

When Peter motions to him questioningly he regrets it almost immediately because the man lifts his arms to cross them over his chest, hands clutching at his elbows. His expression is bleak when he says quietly, "Um, apparently we broke up. And...I didn't know that until this morning. When he kicked me out."

Peter winces in sympathy and quickly scrawls out, **_Dick move. Sorry._ **

Shrugging with feigned casualness, the man says, " _You_ didn't wait until after we'd had sex to mention oh by the way this isn't working for me and you need to leave, like _now_."

 **_Still sucks._ ** Peter writes, then waits till the man has read it before smiling and flipping to the first page of his notepad, which has **_PETER_ ** written in big, bold letters and a silly cartoon arrow pointing upward. He positions the notepad so that the arrow is pointing toward his face and smiles bigger, widening his eyes and raising his eyebrows.

The man covers his mouth as he chuckles, then tentatively smiles in return. "Miggs," he replies.

Peter sticks out a hand and shakes Miggs' after he slowly grasps it. When he lets go, Peter scribbles another note. **_Let me buy U breakfast & U can bitch about UR ex?_ **

"I..." Miggs hesitates for just a moment, then determination enters his expression. "You know what? Yeah! As long as you don't mind that we'll probably be there till lunch. I have...a _lot_ to say about that asshole."

Grinning, Peter slings an arm around Miggs' shoulders and pulls him in close as he leads the man toward the elevator. This day is shaping out pretty great so far. Excellent sex last night, a good night's sleep, and now what looks to be pretty interesting breakfast conversation with an attractive man.

He's having a rather refreshing streak of good luck, it seems.

 

* * *

  

Miggs (Ortega, apparently) was not exaggerating. He has plenty to say about his ex. He also orders a truly disgusting amount of bacon, but after what he's had to deal with Peter doesn't begrudge his filthy carnivore ways.

"— _said_ it was just the one time, but given what I know now I have my doubts," he says dismally, stirring the syrup on his plate with a crispy strip of bacon. " _Ugh_ , I can't believe I stayed after that. How pathetic am I that I forgave him for cheating?"

Peter scribbles a quick response and shoves his notepad across the table at him before taking a bite of his hashbrowns. **_Not pathetic. Trusting. Didn't deserve that._ **

"I didn't or he didn't?" Miggs asks wryly, tilting his head a little. The riot of curls on his head tilts too, a few falling over his eyes, and Peter suspects the man hasn't had any quality time with a comb yet today.

Peter reaches over and does his best to write **_Yes_** upside-down on the notepad, making Miggs laugh and shake his head. Miggs has a _great_ laugh, and Peter decides making fun of his ex's sexual prowess should be pretty funny so he turns the pad around to write, **_Srsly, never reciprocated oral?_**

A sputtered laugh escapes Miggs and he covers his eyes with one hand while his cheeks darken. "Okay, okay that _might_ have been an exaggeration. He gave me a blowjob on my birthday. So, it wasn't _never_."

Peter flails his hands in exasperation at him, making Miggs laugh again. "Okay! I get it! That's a technicality more than anything else. I won't argue semantics. For _your_ sake."

Raising his eyebrows with exaggerated thanks, Peter tilts his head in acknowledgement of the grand favor the man is bestowing upon him. Miggs grins and looks away, still blushing. He has a tiny gap between his front teeth. It's adorable. Christ, what had Aaron-the-shitty-ex been thinking? Miggs is the kind of person who should get bouquets for no reason, not cheated on and unceremoniously dumped after sex.

 **_Sounds like a stud._ ** Peter writes, then makes a face to indicate his level of sarcasm. It's a lot of sarcasm, he has to add an eyeroll just to contain it all.

Miggs replies with a self-depreciating smile. "He tolerated my personality, so he had that going for him at least."

Leveling a dubious look at him, Peter frowns pointedly.

"You've known me what, an hour now?" Miggs counters, pointing at him with another slice of bacon. Peter wrinkles his nose as the smell of cooked animal gets closer. "I'm _not_ a nice person, Peter."

That's the first time Miggs has said his name and it startles him a little, because he _likes_ it. He can hear _something_ slightly off about the pronunciation, but he's still learning to navigate his way around accents. Miggs barely has one, lurking at the edges of his words and only peeking out on certain sounds and combinations.

Peter pulls his own attention back to the thread of conversation and writes, **_Tolerance = bad base for relationship._ ** He doesn't have the personal experience to back up that statement, but it seems pretty common sense. Besides, he has his parents as an example, and actually liking each other seems like a pretty big part of their relationship.

"Well..." Miggs mutters, slumping back in his chair and dropping the bacon onto his plate. "It's what was available. And I was lonely."

Eyebrows drawing together as he stares at the man, Peter frowns in thought. He's pretty sure the idea starting to form in his mind is terrible, but he's equally sure he's going to go for it anyway. Sure enough, he finds himself flipping to the next page on his notepad and scribbling his number on it, then a little note saying **_TXT ONLY, PLZ. :)_ **

Before he can think better of it, he rips it out and slaps it down on the table next to Miggs' plate, already writing an explanation on his notepad with the other hand. He shoves the notepad at Miggs as the man is leaning forward in confusion to read the paper with his number on it. Startled, Miggs' eyes flick to the notepad before he can say anything. **_If U get lonely, can text me any time. I keep odd hrs. Plz don't have terrible sex w/ assholes._ **

Miggs snorts and cracks a small smile, looking up to meet Peter's eyes. "I don't _seek out_ assholes, you know. It just always seems to work out that way."

In response, Peter taps his note and points to the _any time_ on it.

Biting his lip, Miggs glances from the note to him and then back again. Quietly, he asks, "You sure about that?"

Peter just gives a firm nod.

Expression a little fragile, Miggs picks up the paper with Peter's number on it and slowly folds it up, tucking it away in a jeans pocket. "You're going to regret this."

Peter grins and shakes his head.

Miggs snorts, blushing again as he looks down at his plate. He picks up his bacon again and bites into it with a decisive crunch.

 

* * *

 

Peter drops Miggs off at his apartment building before heading home himself. He gets a summons from OWCA not long after and by the end of the day he's out of town and going by another name. Busy as he is, he doesn't think about Miggs again until about a week later.

He's chatting up a potential source of information, a brand new notepad sitting at the ready on the bar beside his drink. The sudden buzzing of his phone startles him and he glances down at the pocket it's in with confusion clear on his face.

"You need to answer that?" asks Bitsy Graves, the daughter of a man OWCA's investigating.

Peter raises his hands in a bewildered shrug, then nods. He's pretty sure only OWCA and his parents have his number, and both know he's busy. So if they're texting him then it must be urgent.

Bitsy's adorable button nose, worth every cent paid for it, wrinkles when she smiles. "I gotta freshen up anyway," she says cheerfully, sliding off her barstool and onto her pointy pumps. She heads toward the bathroom, hips swaying with every step, and calls over her shoulder, "Bee-are-bee, Petey!"

Peter chuckles and shakes his head. She's a sweet kid, he's almost positive she's not faking that. When he turns in his report, he's going to recommend keeping her out of things as much as possible. The loss of her father's income will probably be a blow, but he's not too worried. She does volunteer work, so despite her shallow appearance she knows how to get her hands dirty. And she has friends, good ones, so she has a support system to help her.

Turning his attention back to his phone, Peter pulls it out and checks the text. It's from an unfamiliar number and says, **Hope you were serious. I'm considering a hot guy who won't shut up about how cutting funding to schools is completely justified. I'm a college professor!**

Peter snorts, and quickly types, **Miggs?**

The response comes seconds later. **Yes. Sorry! Help?**

**U can do better.**

**As peptalks go, a bit underwhelming.**

A laugh escapes Peter and he leans back against the bar, considering. **Unless u just want sex & he's okay w a gag, don't do it.**

 **OMG.** Peter can almost hear the scandal and barely-contained laughter in Miggs' voice.

**& by don't do it I mean him. Don't do him.**

**OMG!**

" _Good_ news, then?" Bitsy's slightly nasal voice surprises him. She giggles when his head shoots up to stare at her. "You're grinning."

Peter rolls his eyes and shakes his head, realizing she's right, then reaches over to scribble a note to explain. _Talking a friend out of poor life choices._

" _Aw_ , that's sweet!" Bitsy beams at him in approval.

His phone buzzes in his hand and Peter glances down to find **I'm lonely and he's so hot, tho!** waiting for him. He rolls his eyes and quickly taps out, **Pix?**

The next buzz signals a picture of a moderately attractive man, taken at an odd angle that suggests Miggs was trying to take it without the man noticing. Peter gives the picture a considering look, then turns his phone around to show Bitsy. Her eyes widen a little and she giggles again.

"That the poor life choice?" When Peter nods, she says, "Your friend can do better."

Peter winks at her and grins, then writes, _I said the same thing!_

To Miggs he responds, **Not worth it.**

**Well now he's gone and I'm still lonely.**

**Find some1 hotter who appreciates education. I believe in u!**

**Not helpful. :P** Miggs texts, then a moment later, **Thanks.**

Peter shakes his head and tucks his phone away, quickly scribbling an apology for Bitsy, who has been patiently waiting and sipping her drink. She just laughs and tells him it's fine, friends are important, and he's a good friend.

He's not sure how he managed to make friends with someone without realizing it, but it would appear he's done that with Miggs. He doesn't think he minds, though.

He and Bitsy end up talking well into the night, Peter's impromptu advice and pep talk to Miggs somehow earning her trust. And it turns out she knows even more than OWCA suspected. Her father is _definitely_ going to jail. Bitsy, he's even more certain now, will land on her feet just fine. She and her father have been edging toward a falling-out for years and she's been squirreling away funds and other resources in preparation.

It's with a clear conscience that Peter files his report and returns home to Seattle, feeling good about a job well done.


	2. Loneliness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The texting at all hours continues! Featuring some lovely illustrations by the lovely [Grayce Adams](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RenetteHollow391/pseuds/Grayce%20Adams).

The vibration of his phone going off halfway-wakes Peter and he groggily reaches under his pillow to pull it out. He squints at the dimly-lit screen, tired brain slowly trying to make sense of it. He has a text.

He lets out what feels like a quiet groan and presses the button to read what Miggs has sent him. The words slowly filter through his mind, then a sudden spike of adrenaline has him sitting up as understanding hits.

**I se5 my ex om fire.**

Peter's about to send a "WTF?" when another text buzzes in: **Litle fire. Hes fine.**

Collapsing back on his bed, Peter covers his eyes with one hand. Who the fuck is this man who has somehow become his friend?

Another text comes in as he's contemplating this. **Nyway who's yor nite?**

**No go back. Fire? WTF? R u ok?** Peter types out, refusing to let that go.

Miggs responds after a minute, during which Peter stares up at his ceiling with a faint sense of sleep-deprived nihilism. **Sed. Little fire. Mfine. He's fin. Evrones fine.**

Peter rolls his eyes and decides against typing, "That's not as informative as you think it is." Instead he sends, **U need bail?**

It takes another minute for Miggs to send back, **Yure a tru freind, Ptr. No ball. Was acccidemt.**

Frowning at the screen, then going back through the conversation, Peter finally notices the unusual number of typos. Miggs usually isn't this bad. **R u drunk?** he asks.

**Nnooooo.** Miggs replies unconvincingly. Then a moment later, **Ur drunk.**

Peter snorts and rolls his eyes again. **Don't u have class or something 2morrow?**

**Its friday! :p**

Squinting at the screen again, he realizes Miggs is right. Well, sort of. It's well past midnight at this point, so it's actually Saturday.

**Are u drunk?** Miggs asks, probably wondering how Peter doesn't know what day of the week it is.

**Just jetlagged.** he answers, mostly honestly. He doesn't bother to mention that he's also been awake for most of the past forty-eight hours, which is not contributing in any helpful manner to his ability to orient himself timewise.

**I mite b drunk** Miggs admits.

**Was fire b4 or after u got drunk?**

**During?**

Peter rolls onto his side, bringing his phone up to rest beside him on the pillow. Yawning widely, he types, **U gonna tell me what happened?**

Through a typo and tangent-laden series of texts, Miggs manages to communicate that he had run into his ex at a bar, mid-getting-drunk. Aaron-the-shitty-ex, belatedly realizing what a catch Miggs was (Peter extrapolates and assumes), tried hitting on him. Miggs had not been receptive to the flirting and the ex had gotten slightly aggressive in his assertion that Miggs should come back to his place and have sex with him again. Miggs had loudly insisted _no_ and _fuck you_ , there had been some shoving, and Aaron-the-shitty-ex had run into someone's alcoholic beverage that was for some reason on fire. Based on Miggs' description, Peter can't even guess at what drink it was, but he is at least seventy-five percent certain it was supposed to be on fire.

**Cn i tell yu a secert?** Miggs asks at the end of it.

Eyes falling shut momentarily, Peter sends a simple **OK.** He lets himself drift a little until the phone vibrating gets his attention again.

**T wadnt conpltely on aciident.**

Rolling onto his back, Peter presses the edge of his phone to his forehead while he laughs, feeling the sound roll out of him and for once not caring in the slightest that he doesn't know how loud it is.

 

* * *

 

 

**Does your offer extend even if I'm not lonely & considering bad sex?**

Smiling, Peter sets the skillet to simmer and leans against the counter while he types, **IDK why you're texting me otherwise.**

A moment later Miggs sends a text saying **I WISH I was lonely. I'm in hell.** along with a picture that has Peter imagining Miggs' phone peeking over the edge of a large table to capture the crooked and slightly blurry image of an older man with a smug expression.

Peter raises an eyebrow at that. **Is it normal to want to punch him?**

**LOL, maybe? I feel like that every day.**

**He has a very punchable face.**

**Exactly!**

Peter chuckles and shakes his head, setting his phone on the counter while he stirs the sauce on the stove. It buzzes again and he taps it to pull up the new text, turning his attention back to the food briefly before actually reading it.

**You should hear him TALK.** Then a minute later, **I want to gouge my ears out with pens so I don't have to listen to him anymore.**

Rolling his eyes upward at that, Peter smiles in amusement as he types, **Don't deny urself an entire sense bc of 1 asshole.**

**I hate him so much & want this meeting over.**

**Hang in there.** Peter sets his phone down again and turns off the heat under the sauce, stirring it some more.

**So what are you up to?** Miggs asks, and Peter considers the question for a minute before turning his phone to take a picture of the stove.

**Lunch.** he responds, along with the image of steaming cookware.

Miggs' reply comes with another lopsided photo low to the table, this time of a styrofoam cup and a crumbling donut: **I'm jealous. :P**

Chuckling as he gets out a bowl to dish his meal into, Peter exchanges a few more texts with Miggs before taking it into the living room. A few bites in and Miggs hasn't responded, making him wonder if the meeting has ended and the man is making his escape. He gets his answer a few minutes later when Miggs sends, **Got caught texting. Asshole not happy. :)**

Peter shakes his head and grins, setting the bowl down so he can reply easier. **I assume u don't mind?**

**Nope!** Miggs replies. Then a moment later, **Gave myself away by smiling. I don't usually smile at meetings.**

**Happy to help. ;)** Taking another bite, Peter lets that process, noting that he really is happy to know that he was making Miggs smile. He almost asks for a selfie as proof of the alleged smile, but thinks better of it.

**Asshole said I should be paying attention. Told him I would if he said anything interesting.**

Peter almost knocks over the rest of his lunch laughing at that.

 

* * *

 

 

 

> **I'm lonely.** } _Miggs - 3:27AM_
> 
> _3:28AM - Peter_ { **Kinda late.**
> 
> **Sorry.** } _Miggs - 3:28AM_
> 
> _3:29AM - Peter_ { **No, I'm awake. U ok?**
> 
> **Didn't even bother going out. No luck lately.** } _Miggs - 3:30AM_
> 
> _3:30AM - Peter_ { **Sry. :(**
> 
> **I don't even want sex. I just want to not feel lonely.** } _Miggs - 3:32AM_
> 
> _3:33AM - Peter_ { **So don't. :)**
> 
> **How? :P** } _Miggs - 3:34AM_
> 
> _3:36AM - Peter_ { **U r not alone.**
> 
> ** **
> 
> **Oh.** } _Miggs - 3:37AM_
> 
> _3:41AM - Peter_ { **Miggs? U fall asleep?**
> 
> **No, still here. Your eyes are blue.** } _Miggs - 3:42AM_
> 
> _3:44AM - Peter_ { **That's what they tell me. ;)**
> 
> **I didn't notice when we had breakfast, you had sunglasses.** } _Miggs - 3:46AM_
> 
> _3:48AM - Peter_ { **It's dark enough in here I don't need them.**
> 
> **Oh, I thought you were hungover.** } _Miggs - 3:49AM_
> 
> _3:50AM - Peter_ { **LOL I get that a lot.**
> 
> **Sorry.** } _Miggs - 3:50AM_
> 
> _3:51AM - Peter_ { **No problem. :) Feel any better?**
> 
> **I actually do, even if it was really cheesy.** } _Miggs - 3:52AM_
> 
> _3:53AM - Peter_ { **Sry, too cheesy?**
> 
> **No, just cheesy enough, I think.** } _Miggs - 3:55AM_
> 
> _3:55AM - Peter_ { **:)**
> 
> **Thanks, Peter.** } _Miggs - 3:57AM_  
>  ****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly reminder that if you want to get chapters a week early, you can always become a $7+ patron on [our Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/grayceanddoc?ty=h). While you're reading this chapter, our patrons are already on chapter three! (Containing even more selfies, courtesy of Grayce.)


	3. Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They eat lunch together and Peter fails at self-awareness.
> 
> (Featuring more illustrations from Grayce!)

**How the fuck do I find a guy who isn't terrible?**

Happy for a distraction from the file he'd been reading, Peter leans back in his chair and tilts his head up to stare at the ceiling. Good question. Though in Miggs' case... **1\. get standards. 2. make sure he meets them. ;P**

He grins to himself while waiting for a response. "Hot" and "tolerates me" are terrible standards, in his opinion, and Miggs needs to get better ones. So while he is teasing, he's also serious.

He doesn't have to wait long before Miggs sends, **Not helpful. :P**

A quiet chuckle escapes him. Checking the day and time, he replies, **Don't u have school? U playing hooky, prof?**

**Yes, no, I'm on my lunch break. :P**

**Thanks for reminding me.** At the mention of lunch, Peter suddenly realizes how long he's been sitting there mostly immobile. He stands up and stretches, arms reaching high above his head, before heading to the breakroom. He doesn't usually do paperwork at OWCA headquarters, but he'd just finished the debriefing from his latest mission and had wanted to get everything wrapped up before going home. That was a couple hours ago, though, and he's not nearly as close to finished as he'd like.

He's also ravenous.

Agent H is groggily doctoring a steaming cup of coffee and he gives her a polite nod of acknowledgement. H tilts her head just a bit in return before turning her attention back to her coffee. Digging around in the breakroom freezer, Peter finds the tupperware he thought he remembered leaving in there a few weeks ago, for emergencies. Since he hadn't expected to be here this long he doesn't have anything packed for lunch, so this counts as an emergency.

H is gone by the time Peter pulls out the container, leaving behind nothing but a watery brown ring on the counter. After putting the food in the ancient, crusty microwave, Peter leans back against the counter to check his phone. Miggs responded while he was distracted.

**You forgot lunch?**

Peter shrugs as he types, **Got caught up in work.**

**What do you do, anyway? I don't think I ever asked.**

Glancing out the open door of the breakroom at the subdued shuffle of his fellow agents, Peter purses his mouth as he considers his answer. With another shrug, he goes with one he uses often, because it amuses him. **Troubleshooter.**

Though he's not sure how accurate that actually is right now. He's still trying to figure out a way to properly explain that the "excessive explosions" complaint attached to this case's file isn't actually his fault. His superior had assumed the explosions were on purpose, when really it was just a matter of Peter being unable to defuse a bomb in the allotted time. He hadn't been able to get it open enough to find where the wires connected, and no amount of instructions through his OWCA communicator were going to make him able to tell the difference between the red wire and the green wire. So rather than cutting wires, he had cut his losses and just done his best to minimize the damage the bomb caused. On the plus side, no one had been seriously injured. Some small pieces of shrapnel had hit him, but the damage was all superficial.

The harsh ding of the microwave startles him and he quickly gets out his lunch, savoring the appetizing smell of it. His phone buzzes on the way to the small breakroom table, and he checks it as he's sitting down.

**Makes sense.**

Not sure how to take that, Peter just sends back a question mark before rolling his sleeves up and stirring his meal with a plastic spork. He doesn't have to wait long before Miggs sends back, **You've been sort of troubleshooting my lovelife since we met.**

Chuckling, Peter scoops a bite into his mouth and chews it consideringly. It's not as good as it was when he first made it, the freezer not doing the dish any favors, but it's still tasty. He'll have to remember that this recipe doesn't do well with being frozen.

 **Just don't like anyone to settle for bad sex.** he types out one-handed while eating with the other.

**Definitely not having bad sex. Not having ANY.**

Peter wrinkles his nose and absently licks some sauce from the spork. **Sry. Am usually not a cockblock.  
**

**LOL. Yes, how dare you encourage me to not be a desperate, lonely loser.  
**

Frowning a little, Peter considers his response for a moment, then glances around him. The breakroom looks relatively normal, as far as breakrooms go, nothing in it to suggest it's housed within the headquarters of a secret government organization. His hat, tie, and suit jacket are all back in the communal cubicle he's been using, and he switched out his goggles for his glasses when he first got back.

Before he can think better of it, he extends his arm out to the side and grins at his phone as he takes a picture of himself at the table. He adds **Ur not alone.** to it and quickly sends it off to Miggs.

He gets in a few more bites of his lunch before Miggs responds, and he chuckles a little when he opens it. It's a picture of Miggs, sitting at a similarly round table, wood instead of plastic, with half a burger lying on its wrapper in front of him. He has an elbow on the table and his cheek propped on his hand, smiling at his phone in a way that makes Peter reflexively smile back. Underneath the selfie, Miggs says, **WTF are you eating? It's green.**

Peter glances down at his lunch, scoops out a bite, and examines it. It contains a lot of broccoli, so that makes sense. Thinking of the fast food Miggs is having for lunch, Peter smirks and taps out, **They're called vegetables.  
**

**:P** Miggs responds, and Peter quietly laughs. They spend the rest of their lunch breaks texting back and forth, and Peter finds himself frequently scrolling back to the picture of Miggs in his own breakroom. Without meaning to, he turns toward where Miggs would be if they were at the same table. After Miggs curses and admits he's going to be late getting to class, Peter teasing him again about playing hooky, Peter leans back in his chair and looks at his phone thoughtfully. He stares in particular at the picture of Miggs smiling at him from his own breakroom, and finds himself wishing, just a little, that they _were_ at the same table. That they were eating lunch together in the same room.

Agent M wanders in to rummage through the fridge and Peter takes that as his cue to get back to work. He quickly cleans up after himself, giving his tupperware a quick rinse in the sink before heading back to the cubicle to finish his paperwork.

Before the end of the day, though, the picture of Miggs replaces an image of a panda cub as his phone's background.

 

* * *

  

He's not sure what prompted him to change his phone's background, but it makes him smile every time he sees Miggs smiling at him from the screen so he doesn't question his motivation. He doesn't even really think anything of the change until that weekend when he's visiting his parents.

His mom unintentionally pushes the issue, when Peter absently leaves his phone on a side table while his dad distracts him with a story. It's from well before Peter came into their lives, when they still regularly participated in archaeological digs, and he's always been fascinated by these glimpses of who his parents were before they were his parents.

Mahendra Orso has a way with sign language that Peter envies sometimes, hands flowing gracefully from one motion to the next. While Peter grew up signing, his dad definitely gets more opportunity to use it, living with someone who can understand him and sign back.

His dad is in the middle of describing what

seems like a particularly amazing sunrise and a particularly stupid rooster when Peter's phone buzzes. Signing a quick apology and getting an indulgent chuckle and hand wave in response, Peter turns to check what is probably a text from Miggs. To his surprise, his mom is standing there, frowning down at his phone curiously.

"Who's that, Petey-bear?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

For some reason, Peter can feel himself blushing as he shrugs and signs, _Friend._ Then he quickly snatches up his phone to check the text. It is, as predicted, from Miggs.

**Remind me why I shouldn't kill my coworker?**

Peter grins and closes his eyes for a moment, shaking his head. When he opens his eyes again, he types, **V. punchable one?**

**Yes.**

**B/c I don't have enough for bail.** Peter responds, trying not to laugh.

**Well obviously I'd hide the body.**

A bark of laughter escapes him and he bows his head, helplessly overwhelmed with _affection_ for this strange, lonely, hilarious man he's befriended. After a moment he's recovered enough to type, **Don't kill ur coworker.** Then a moment later he adds, **LMK if u need a shovel.**

When he looks up again, his mom is giving him an odd look. "Your friend?" she asks gently, signing along with her words.

Peter nods, suddenly feeling almost shy, like his parents have witnessed something private. It wasn't, it was just a few silly texts, but the look on her face makes him feel like they caught him sexting.

Then a thought hits him and he can't seem to banish it. It stays there, looming and seductive, until he bites his lip and scrolls through his saved images until he finds the one he's looking for. It's the picture of Miggs in bed, taken with his phone much closer, eyes sleepy but bright. Hesitantly, Peter brushes away his sudden nerves and hands the phone to his mom so she can see, signing, _Can you tell me what color his eyes are?_

Edith Orso's eyes widen as she takes in his question, then go weirdly shiny. For reasons beyond his understanding, she presses a hand to her mouth as she says, quiet and almost choked up, " _Oh_."

Lowering her hand, she smiles at him, eyebrows drawing together, expression a strange combination of happy and sad. "Oh honey. They're green, Petey-bear. Your friend's eyes are green."

 


	4. Incoming Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets more calls in a week than he usually gets in a year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here thar be smut! (Complete with non-explicit illustrations from Grayce!) If that is not to your liking, probably best to skip the first section after about..."Shifting the phone to hold in one hand again, he listens closely, hoping to hear it again". Then come back for their text conversation in the second section. You won't really miss anything plot-relevant. :)
> 
> Tags and rating have been updated accordingly.  
> For a quick summary of the smut, see the End Notes.
> 
> As always, the next chapter is up early on [my joint Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/grayceanddoc?ty=h) for $7+ patrons. "Chapter Five: Morning After" is exactly what it says on the tin. :D

Peter is getting ready for bed, hoping insomnia doesn't rear its ugly head like it did the night before, when his phone starts buzzing on the bathroom counter. Spitting toothpaste foam into the sink, he looks over, frowning curiously at the continued buzzing. It's a _call_.

Eyebrows drawn together in confusion, he picks it up. He can count the number of times someone called him on this phone on one hand. Once was someone from work who wasn't familiar with him, the rest were telemarketers.

The caller ID says it's Miggs.

Concerned, he taps the button to accept the call and holds it up to his ear. At first he doesn't hear anything, and he awkwardly balances his phone between ear and shoulder as he fills his cup with water. Just as he's swishing the water in his mouth to get rid of the rest of the toothpaste, debating if he should try to make some kind of sound to get Miggs' attention, he suddenly hears something. Shifting the phone to hold in one hand again, he listens closely, hoping to hear it again, and is startled by the loud moan that filters through.

The water in his mouth abruptly hits the mirror as he realizes what he's hearing.

" _Oh, ohhh...oh god! Fff-fuck!_ " Miggs gasps from the other end of the line, panting before he moans again.

Peter can feel his ears burning as he listens in. He can only hear one voice, one set of heavy breathing. So Miggs isn't getting lucky, but he's definitely getting off.

Standing frozen, staring at his blushing face in the mirror, he idly speculates on what happened. Maybe Miggs was looking at porn on his phone and dropped it, accidentally hitting the call button. Or maybe he's in bed and rolled over onto his phone. Maybe he's writhing against the mattress, naked and glistening with sweat. Maybe he's on all fours, face pressed against his pillow while his hand furiously works his cock. Maybe--

Peter inhales sharply, realizing his own cock has taken an interest in both the enticing sounds Miggs is making and Peter's imaginings of what position Miggs is jerking off in, what he looks like while pleasuring himself.

Leaning one hand on the counter, Peter hangs his head as he listens in. It's obvious Miggs is near the phone but not close enough he would necessarily notice that it's on. Fabric rustles and Peter's imagination informs him that yes, that was probably the sound of Miggs' skin against his sheets. Peter closes his eyes and bites his lip, bringing to mind the selfie Miggs sent him a while back, of him in bed. He imagines dark skin flushed darker, curls wild and messy against his pillow, mouth open as Miggs moans his pleasure...

" _Oh! Puh--_ please! _Oh god..._ yes _... Ohhh..._ "

Imagines Miggs staring up at him, eyes bright and glazed, sweat sliding down his chest, begging Peter, begging for more, begging for him to do _anything_. Freckles all over and legs parted, cock dark and heavy...

Peter swallows thickly, mouth watering, and opens his eyes to stare at his reflection again. He feels a little weak at the knees, cock throbbing with want while lust blooms hot and liquid in his gut.

He also feels a cold curl of shame creeping along his spine. It feels like a betrayal of Miggs' trust to be listening in on an obviously private moment, much less getting off on it.

He wants to pull his dick out and start stroking himself while he listens to Miggs gasp and moan with pleasure.

" _Fuck! F-f-fuck! Oh! Oh god!_ "

Clenching his teeth, Peter whips his phone away from his ear and slams it onto the counter, stabbing a finger at the end call button. The sound of Miggs moaning cuts off abruptly and Peter finally lets himself gasp with desire. Feeling a little disgusted with himself, but too turned on to care, he pulls his cock out and starts stroking. He doesn't even have to call to mind an image of Miggs before he's groaning and coming all over his hand, the sound of Miggs' pleasure still echoing in his ears.

A dazed silence follows, Peter staring down at his come-streaked hand while he catches his breath. He feels an odd mixture of dismay and apprehension. It's probably lucky that he and Miggs only communicate via text. If he saw the man in person any time soon, he's not sure he'd be able to resist imagining him naked.

Sighing, Peter turns the water back on with his clean hand and starts washing away his mess. At least sleep should be somewhat easier now.

 

* * *

 

> **Hey did I call you yesterday?** } _Miggs - 12:08PM_
> 
> _12:09PM - Peter_ { **Butt-dial. I hung up when u didn't say anything to me.**
> 
> **Oh. Sorry.** } _Miggs - 12:10PM_
> 
> _12:10PM - Peter_ { **No prob. :)**
> 
> **Did you hear anything?** } _Miggs - 12:12PM_
> 
> _12:13PM - Peter_ { **U were moving around, I think? IDK.**
> 
> **Oh, OK.** } _Miggs - 12:13PM_
> 
> _12:14PM - Peter_ { **Y? U butt-dial while killing punch-face? Am I a witness? ;)**
> 
> **Accomplice if you still have that shovel. ;)** } _Miggs - 12:15PM_
> 
> _12:16PM - Peter_ { **LOL, any time.**
> 
> **You offer to hide bodies for all your friends?** } _Miggs - 12:17PM_
> 
> _12:19PM - Peter_ { **...Technically?**
> 
> **What?** } _Miggs - 12:20PM_
> 
> _12:22PM - Peter_ { **I offered u, so technically yes.**
> 
> **Oh.** } _Miggs - 12:24PM_
> 
> _12:24PM - Peter_ { **Can we go back to discussing murder?**
> 
> **Sorry! Sorry.** } _Miggs - 12:25PM_
> 
> _12:25PM - Peter_ { **It's not a big deal.**
> 
> **Sorry. :(** } _Miggs - 12:26PM_
> 
> _12:26PM - Peter_ { **It's fine.**
> 
> **You're my best friend, too.** } _Miggs - 12:28PM_
> 
> _12:30PM - Peter_ { **...Thnx.**

 

* * *

 

The vibrating of his phone wakes him and Peter groggily pulls it out from under his pillow to squint at the screen. It's not a text like he assumed, his phone is still vibrating with an incoming call. It's from Miggs again and he feels a bit apprehensive answering it after last time.

Still, it could be an emergency.

He sighs and fumbles with the protective plastic case beside his bed and grabs one of the hearing aids from inside. Once it's in and turned on, he answers the call and puts the phone to his ear. A moment later he sighs again and switches it to the ear with the hearing aid in it.

"Hello?" asks a voice that isn't Miggs. It's male, but significantly deeper than Miggs.

Sitting up, Peter frowns down at his knees.

"Hello? Is this...uh, Peter?"

Clenching his teeth in irritation, Peter considers his options for a moment. Then he hums in what he hopes sounds like an affirmative tone.

"Great, do you know a Miguel Ortega?" the mystery voice asks.

He's going to assume this person, whoever they are, is not especially familiar with Miggs, to be calling him "Miguel". He hums.

"Look, he's passed out at my bar and we're closing up, we're trying to find someone to come take him home."

Peter's eyebrows rise at that, surprised. He's almost positive he would've noticed a text from Miggs. That's why he keeps his phone under his pillow, so the vibration can wake him. So that means Miggs got lonely, went out, and got blackout drunk, all without texting Peter once. He probably shouldn't, but he feels a little hurt at that.

"Look man, can you get him or not?"

Peter hums again, because that seems to be working out pretty well for him so far, and the guy on Miggs' phone tells him the address. After hanging up, he falls back on his bed and stares up at the ceiling for a minute or two. A twinge of guilt prods at him, reminding him of what happened the last time he got a call from Miggs. He covers his face with both hands and groans, trying to banish the memory of Miggs moaning in pleasure. He's about to _see_ the man. In person. For the first time since they originally met all those months ago. Doing so with an erection is pretty high on his list of things he doesn't fucking want.

Dropping his hands, he sighs and rolls over to grab his other hearing aid and then get ready to head out and pick up his friend.

 

* * *

 

The place isn't very far from Peter's apartment, but he apparently heard a number wrong, so he ends up circling the block before finding it. It's a small hole-in-the-wall sort of place, with an aesthetic that suggests people go there more to get drunk than to meet anyone. The door is locked when he gets there, but a tall woman with short hair answers soon after he knocks. She starts to tell him they're closed, but he has his notepad out and flipped to the page with his name in large letters, holding it up next to his face with a tired, hopeful smile.

"Oh right, the friend Bobby called," she says, stepping aside to let him in. Peter gives her a nod of thanks and then turns his attention to the main room of the bar.

At a table in a shadowy corner, another woman, shorter and chubby with a long fauxhawk, is hovering anxiously over a slumped figure. Peter feels his heart clench, with relief and worry, when he recognizes Miggs' messy curls. He threads his way between scattered tables and chairs until he's at his friend's side, leaning over and automatically reaching out to press his fingers against Miggs' throat to check his pulse. It's there, and feels healthy enough for someone who's unconscious.

"Are you Peter?" the shorter woman asks him, wringing her hands nervously. When Peter glances up from Miggs to nod at her, she bites her lip and looks unhappy. "I'm _so_ sorry. He said he was okay but then he just..." She spreads her hands to somehow indicate his current state. "He mentioned you before he passed out, though, so...I asked Bobby to call you." She gives a helpless shrug and Peter does his best to make his smile reassuring.

Straightening, Peter sighs and considers his options. There's no way Miggs will be able to hang on to him on his bike, and he doesn't want to risk attempting to hold him the whole drive. He doubts Miggs drove here himself, not if he was planning to get drunk. So he gets his notepad out again and scribbles a quick note, holding it out to the woman. **_Call cab plz. Can I leave my bike here overnight?_ **

The woman slowly nods as she reads it. "I'll get you a cab, but you'll have to ask Bobby about parking here. It should be okay, there's a few spots in the back."

She hurries off toward a door in the back and Peter sits next to Miggs at the table. He's reminded of his and Miggs' shared lunch break from a few weeks ago, and how he had wished they could be sitting at the same table together. So far the reality isn't turning out as well as he had imagined, but then the circumstances aren't quite the same.

Leaning in again, Peter tries shaking Miggs' shoulder but gets no response. He tries pushing Miggs upright, but all that does is reveal that he's been drooling on the table. Smiling wryly, Peter gently lowers him back to the table and decides to kill time by running a hand through Miggs' hair. He originally intended to just brush it back from the man's face, but it quickly turns into absent petting.

The woman returns shortly with the bar's owner, Bobby, and a promise that a cab is on its way. Peter just crosses through the first part of his previous note and holds it out to Bobby for explanation. Bobby frowns, mutters, "So that's why you didn't say anything," and then nods. "A'right, you can leave the bike here. I'm not liable if someone steals it, though."

That's just fine with Peter, who installed his motorcycle's security system himself, and he nods his acceptance of those terms. Bobby mutters something about inventory and disappears into the back again, and it isn't long after that the short-haired woman from the front informs him that the cab is here. With a little help from both women, Peter gets Miggs upright and his arm around Peter's shoulders. That doesn't really work with Miggs as deadweight, so Peter sighs, rolls his eyes, and carefully hefts Miggs onto his shoulders in a fireman's carry.

Getting Miggs into the cab proves to be another interesting challenge, but he manages it, getting in beside him and handing the driver a note with Miggs' address on it. The ride is short and quiet and Miggs is warm against his side.

After they get to Miggs' building, the cab disappearing down the road, Peter suddenly realizes he has no idea which apartment his friend lives in. He doesn't even know what floor, for that matter.

With a quiet groan, he carries Miggs into the building and leans him against a wall, checking his pockets for a wallet. It's in Miggs' back pocket and Peter tries not to think about the fact that only a thin layer of fabric separates his hand from the man's ass as he pulls it out and flips it open to check Miggs' driver's license. Luckily it has the apartment number on it, so Peter slides the wallet back into Miggs' pocket and gets him situated over his shoulders again.

When they get to the right door, Peter again has to dig through Miggs' pockets, this time for his keys. They're in a front pocket and Peter again just tries really, really hard not to think about where his hand is.

He gets them both inside with a minimum of fuss and carries Miggs into the bedroom, laying him down so that he can get the man's shoes off. After a quick debate with himself on the importance of comfort over privacy, regarding whether he should remove anything else, he finally compromises by removing Miggs' belt and unfastening the snap on his pants. Then he gets Miggs settled on his side under the covers, shoving a pillow against Miggs' back so he won't accidentally roll over in his sleep.

A quick sweep of Miggs' apartment reveals some cleaning supplies under the sink, including a bucket that smells faintly of bleach. The bucket goes on Miggs' bedside table, along with a glass of water and some aspirin. Then, realizing Miggs may need some reassurance when he wakes up, Peter scrawls out a quick note and props it up against the water glass.

Miggs whimpers a little in his sleep, the first sound he's really made the entire time, and Peter instinctively brushes a hand through his friend's hair. He finds himself tracing his fingers lightly over Miggs' temple, tucking a curl behind his ear, cupping his cheek. The furrow of Miggs' brow smooths out and he tilts his head into the touch, causing a distinctly warm feeling to melt through Peter's chest. He doesn't quite understand how this man has come to mean so much to him so fast, but he has.

Staring down at the man for a moment, Peter finally gives in and indulges the urge to lean down and press a gentle kiss to Miggs' forehead before reluctantly leaving the man's bedside.

Yawning as he exits the room, Peter removes his glasses so he can scrub a hand over his face. Half the couch is covered in papers, so he tries not to disturb any order they may be in as he collects them and sets them on the coffee table. He strips off his jacket and shirt and drapes them over the back of the sofa, then removes his own shoes and pants, leaving them in a pile on the floor. Down to his boxers and undershirt, Peter curls up on the couch and bunches up a small pillow under his head.

He leaves his hearing aids in, even though he's not supposed to sleep with them. He'd rather be able to hear if Miggs needs any help, though, so he figures he can let that slide for one night.

Reassured that Miggs is taken care of for now, Peter falls back asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief summary of smutty stuff: Peter overhears Miggs jerking off, gets turned on, ends the call, then jerks off himself. *jazzhands* Ta-da.


	5. Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast is had and plans are made.
> 
> (Important notes at the end, don't forget to take a look after reading the chapter!)
> 
> EDIT: Now with bonus illustrations from Grayce! :D  
> (07/14/2016)

Peter wakes up disoriented and almost falls off the couch, flailing a little until he remembers where he is. He makes the mistake of opening his eyes and then closes them immediately, realizing he forgot to check Miggs' apartment for uncovered windows. From the amount of light in the room, it appears there is one nearby, letting in an abundance of cheerful rays of eye-searing agony.

Squinting, he gropes at the coffee table for his sunglasses, then sits up and yawns widely. When he looks up again, he jerks in surprise when he realizes Miggs is standing in the doorway to his bedroom, blearily staring at him.

Clothes sleep-rumpled, hair curling wildly, eyes soft, and covered in all those freckles, Miggs is...definitely something. Something he can't believe the man's asshole ex actually kicked out instead of dragging back to bed. He had Miggs, eager to sleep with him and willing to forgive his sins, and instead he _broke up with him_. Peter's _glad_ , because the asshole never did anything to deserve Miggs, but at the same time, for Miggs' sake, he wishes the man hadn't been so damn _stupid_.

If _Peter_ had someone like Miggs... If Peter had _Miggs_...

Well, he wouldn't be stupid about it.

Miggs is still staring at him, like he can't believe Peter's there, so Peter gives a wry, tired smile and waves.

"Oh," Miggs croaks, then clears his throat. When he speaks again, he doesn't sound much better, but at least he doesn't sound like he's been gargling gravel. "...Hi."

Peter waves again, then pushes himself to his feet, pausing to stretch with a quiet groan. When he looks again, Miggs is staring even more intently. He tilts his head and lifts his eyebrows questioningly, and Miggs shakes himself a little.

"Sorry. Um...you have tattoos."

Lowering one eyebrow, Peter lifts the other a bit more and smirks as he walks closer to Miggs, then holds out his arms so the man can see them clearer.

"Oh, they're _bears_ ," Miggs murmurs, hesitantly reaching out to run his fingers over the thick black lines of the stylized design. With his free hand, Peter points at him, then winks, grinning. Miggs looks briefly startled, before blushing and withdrawing his hand.

Cupping a hand on Miggs' sleep-warmed shoulder, Peter smiles gently and points to him, then makes an "OK" sign with his thumb and forefinger, his eyebrows making it a question: _You okay?_

"Well...I didn't need the bucket," Miggs says hoarsely, giving him a thin smile that drops away after a moment. His expression is apprehensive when he asks, "Um, what...happened?"

Peter frowns in confusion and mimes writing. Did his note not explain? Or did Miggs not find it?

"Right, no, I read the note." Miggs grimaces and rubs a hand over his cheek. "Just...you're here?"

Nodding in understanding, Peter smiles again. He taps under his eye and points to Miggs, hoping the man will understand. Peter's notepad is still in his pants, back by the couch. Miggs has been pretty quick on the uptake so far, though.

"Keeping an eye on me?"

Peter's smile turns pleased. This is going much smoother than usual when he has to mime to communicate. It's refreshing and he likes it.

Taking note of the dark shadows under Miggs' eyes, he suddenly remembers the man is probably dealing with a hangover. He points to Miggs, then signs _eat_ , hoping the meaning is clear enough for him to understand. Miggs' stomach, in a startling display of timing, chooses that moment to gurgle.

Miggs blushes again, hand coming up to press against his middle. "I am kinda hungry," he admits.

Smiling affectionately, Peter heads for the kitchen to see what he can do about that.

 

* * *

 

Cooking in Miggs' kitchen turns out to be an interesting experience. It's the kitchen of someone who doesn't cook very often, and Peter has to get creative in order to feed the man without resorting to heating up a frozen meal. So after turning on the coffee pot, he chops up some frozen french fries and throws them in a skillet with some salt and pepper, then starts beating the eggs he found in the fridge. He adds a little unflavored coffee creamer to stretch out the few eggs and then pours half the mixture into another skillet. Digging around in the fridge some more reveals about half a jar of salsa, and the pantry holds an unopened jar of queso, so he adds the salsa and some of the queso to the chopped fries.

Once the potato mixture looks done, Peter turns off the burner and then pours half of it onto the omelette in the other skillet. Folding it over, he digs out a plate and then transfers the omelette onto it. It smells okay, and it looks okay, so he sets it in front of Miggs, who has been watching with groggy awe as Peter cooks.

Miggs stares down at the omelette while Peter pours the remaining eggs into the skillet to fix one for himself. While it cooks, he searches the kitchen drawers until he finds a fork and circles his wrist a little before handing it over to Miggs with a smile and a wink.

Lifting his head to stare at Peter instead of the food, Miggs asks, "...How?"

Peter shrugs and turns back to the stove. The eggs are nearly done, so he pours the potato mix on top and folds it over. As he's getting out another plate, Miggs makes a surprised sound that has Peter quickly looking at him to make sure he's okay.

Miggs looks fine, just surprised. Eyes wide, he's staring down at the omelette again, chewing slowly. That's a little worrying, so Peter snaps his fingers to get the man's attention. When Miggs looks up, Peter shrugs questioningly.

"It's... _good_ ," Miggs says, disbelief thick in his voice. When Peter raises an unimpressed eyebrow, he reaches out a little and hurries to add, "No no! It's not... I didn't think... It's not that I didn't think you could cook, I just...didn't think you could cook with what's in my kitchen?"

It's a fair point, and Peter tilts his head to acknowledge it. Turning back to the stove, he scrapes his omelette onto a plate and turns off the other burner. He moves to join Miggs at the table, then thinks better of it, setting the plate on the table and heading past it into the living room. Digging through his pants until he finds his notepad, he straightens and turns back to the table. Miggs quickly looks down at his plate, cheeks going dark for some reason.

Frowning in amused confusion, Peter returns to the table, notepad in hand, and sits down to breakfast.

Together they eat in surprisingly comfortable silence until an amusing thought occurs to Peter and he flips open his notepad, scrawling it out and then turning the pad for Miggs to see: **_Punch-face isn't driving u to drink, is he?_ **

Miggs reads over the note quickly, then snorts and shakes his head, curls bouncing against his forehead. "I wouldn't give him the satisfaction." There's a pause before Miggs starts nervously worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth. The small gap between his front teeth is unreasonably cute. "So... Tina called you?"

At Peter's confused look, Miggs clarifies, "The, um, pink-haired woman?" He reaches up to pat his messy hair.

Carefully keeping the panic from his face, Peter holds up a hand, palm down, to about midway up his chest to indicate height. Luckily that makes Miggs smile in amusement and say, "Yes, the short one."

Peter nods and Miggs looks embarrassed, mumbling to his plate, "Thank you. You didn't have to come drag my drunk ass home, but thank you."

Reaching out, Peter curls a hand over Miggs', smiling at the startled man while he pulls his notepad back towards himself. Without looking away from Miggs, he scribbles a note and slides the pad back across the table to him: **_What R friends 4?_ **

Miggs' eyes dart from their hands to the notepad, then back, before slowly rising to look at him. "Oh," he says hoarsely, then gives a tentative smile and blushes again. Voice barely a whisper, he repeats, "Thank you."

Peter gives his hand a quick squeeze before letting go and taking another bite of his omelette. He's done better, but considering what he had to work with he's counting it as a win. Especially since Miggs seems to be enjoying it so much. At least it appears that way from the quiet sounds he's making.

Abruptly, Peter remembers the accidental phone call from Miggs and that yes, that's about what he sounds like when he's enjoying himself, just with fewer words. Trying to banish the memory, and the flush that came with it, Peter finishes off his breakfast and takes the plate over to the sink, intending to wash it.

"Oh! No, let me," Miggs says quickly, following him with his own empty plate. "I mean, you cooked, it's the least I can do."

Peter tries shaking his head to protest, but Miggs is already taking the plate from him and nudging him aside. With a good-natured sigh and roll of his eyes, Peter instead picks up the kitchen towel and holds it up with an indulgent smile. Miggs ducks his head and grins, quickly washing the dishes in the sink and handing them off to Peter to dry.

"We work well together," he says wryly, and Peter chuckles and nods. Turning his attention to the sink and biting his lip again, Miggs nervously fidgets with his hands. Peter watches for a moment before reaching over and gently trapping the damp hands between his. Miggs looks up at him in surprise, then blurts out, "Are you doing anything today?"

Peter's eyebrows lift and he lets go of Miggs' hands as he thinks it over. He doesn't really have any regular plans, and he just got back from a mission so he probably doesn't have any OWCA responsibilities. Smiling at Miggs, he shakes his head.

"Oh. Okay. Um..." Miggs stares at the sink again as he mumbles, "Would you like to hang out? Maybe?"

That is a _terrible_ idea. Peter knows it's a terrible idea. He's already remembering what Miggs sounds like when he's jerking off, and his own shameful actions after listening without the man's knowledge. He's already imagined just how many freckles Miggs has under his clothes and how far down his blush reaches. At least if they're separated by distance and their phones, Peter can _attempt_ to not think about those things.

So of course he immediately nods, cursing his own weakness.

It's completely worth it for the way Miggs' expression brightens.

"I... Really? Um, okay! What, uh, what sounds good? I mean, I didn't really have anything planned, so if you have something you'd prefer..."

Peter's phone chooses then to buzz audibly and he glances over at the couch, where his clothes are still scattered. Frowning in confusion, he walks over to dig his phone out of his crumpled pants and checks the screen. It's a text from his mom.

**Spring cleaning! Can you come over today? Need you to check if you want anything from storage. :)**

Peter grimaces as he stands up, thinking it over. On the one hand, he was looking forward to spending time with Miggs, bad idea or no. On the other hand, this is the perfect excuse to bow out gracefully with promises of a rain check once he's gotten his imagination under better control.

Following on the heels of his previous terrible idea, he quickly taps out, **Can I bring a friend?** and sends it before he can think better. A moment later he realizes what he did, and presses the edge of his phone to his forehead while he winces.

"Everything okay?" Miggs asks from behind him, nervously hovering in the archway between kitchen and living room.

Peter turns, trying to come up with an answer, when his phone buzzes again. His mom says, **Yes! Stay for lunch? :D:D**

Well, now he's committed. Sort of. Considering his options for how to ask Miggs, he finally just rejoins the man in the kitchen and holds up his phone with the conversation pulled up.

Miggs quickly reads over it, then his eyes widen. "Oh! You...you want me to meet your parents?"

Shrugging, Peter points to the first text and gives him a wry smile, trying to convey that he's going either way but it's up to Miggs if he wants to come with.

"...Okay," Miggs says shyly, brushing his hair back and tucking some behind his ear. "I'd love to."

Peter quickly turns to grab his clothes and starts getting dressed. Maybe, if he's lucky, his imagination will at least behave with his parents around. Because at this rate, he would love nothing more than to crowd the man up against the nearest wall and start kissing him breathless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay two things:  
> 1\. AH! People are commenting!! :D:D:D  
> I WILL RESPOND TO EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU AS SOON AS I HAVE ENOUGH TIME. Just know, in the mean time, that your kind words are greatly appreciated and...honestly, make it seem less like I'm just chucking chapters into the void for my own amusement, LOL.
> 
> 2\. I currently have about 33k written of this. Assuming my chapters stay in the 1.5-2.5k range, that's about 2.5-3 months of updates. And that's only looking at what I have RIGHT NOW. I'm still writing, I haven't reached the end yet. Whatever that final number turns out to be, that seems like a pretty long time. Sooo, I actually have a question for you, kind readers: how do you feel about me increasing updates to twice a week?  
> I'd still have a buffer of about a month, which I think I can keep up with. If not, I'd go back to updating once a week.


	6. Spring Cleaning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Orsos than Miggs knows how to handle!
> 
> EDIT: Now with an illustration from the ever-talented Grayce! :D  
> (07/14/2016)
> 
> EDIT AGAIN: Now with a SECOND illustration from Grayce! Praise the artist! Go! PRAISE! :D:D:D  
> (07/29/2016)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the beginning of my twice-weekly update experiment! Updates will continue every Wednesday, but now there will be another update every Sunday. All $7+ patrons of my [joint patreon](https://www.patreon.com/grayceanddoc?ty=h) will continue to be a chapter ahead of the updates here. (So while you're reading this chapter, they'll have access to "Chapter 7: Personal Space.")
> 
> That said, I have about a month's worth of buffer in my writing but if it looks like I'm getting close to burning through that then updates will go back to once a week. (Though I'll be sure to let you know, dear readers, before I do that.)  
> I'd rather go back to once-weekly updates than have to put it on hiatus while I catch back up. :)

Miggs has a car, as it turns out, so taking him along is perhaps not such a terrible idea. Peter loves his motorcycle, but it's not very good for transporting more than himself and another person. If he had found something he wanted to take home with him and been on his bike, he probably would've had to attempt to pack it all in a bag he could wear or awkwardly balance a box on his lap.

So with the day's plans decided on, Peter engrosses himself in playing on his phone and not imagining what Miggs looks like while taking his quick shower. ("I can't go to your parents' place smelling like a _bar_!" Miggs had said, scandalized.) He definitely doesn't let his mind wander to thoughts of hot water tracing wet paths down Miggs' body, leaving him slick and shiny. And he absolutely doesn't get so caught up imagining it, breathing in the scent of soap and steam drifting through the apartment, that it takes him a good minute or two to notice the cheery "GAME OVER" of the game he was definitely giving his full attention to.

Falling backward on the couch with a groan, Peter stares up at the ceiling. He is in _so_ much trouble.

Miggs emerges minutes later, freshly-scrubbed and smelling of generic bodywash and shampoo. His hair is still insistently clinging to every drop of moisture it can, looking heavy and damp, though he clearly made an attempt to brush it back. The collar of his shirt is dark where the occasional droplets have slid down his neck to soak into the fabric.

"Ready when you are," Miggs says, nervously hopeful as he fiddles with his keys.

Peter smiles and follows the man down to his car. From there they head back to the bar so Peter can get his motorcycle, then Miggs follows him to his apartment so Peter can quickly change clothes and run a comb through his hair.

Once he's presentable enough for a day of digging through boxes with his parents, Peter slides into the passenger seat of Miggs' car and they head out. Miggs is pretty good about following Peter's directions, which he gives by tapping the man's shoulder and pointing, and they make decent time. Which is probably good, because it doesn't leave Peter much time to get nervous.

Then they're parking in front of the small suburban home and it all comes flooding through him in a moment of adrenaline-soaked panic.

Some of it must show on his face because Miggs' eyebrows draw together as he asks, "Peter? You okay?" He starts biting his lip while waiting for an answer.

Peter forces an unconcerned smile and nods. It's just his parents, and it's just Miggs. He's been in _much_ worse situations, though namely for work. He's charmed his way into underground criminal enterprises, surely he can manage to introduce his best friend to his parents.

(This is different. This is _completely_ different. His parents know him better than anyone else, and Miggs is rapidly gaining on them in that regard. They can see through his shit in seconds. He is so screwed.)

"If you're not comfortable with me being here, I can just drop you off," Miggs says anxiously, nails picking at a loose bit of plastic on the steering wheel. "And...I guess pick you up when you're done? If you want? I don't _have_ to come with y—"

Peter puts a stop to that by covering Miggs' mouth with one hand and making a face at him. He's being ridiculous getting nervous about this, and Miggs is picking up on his nerves. Smiling wryly, Peter peels Miggs' hands off the steering wheel and gives them a reassuring squeeze, then nods his head toward the house.

Eyes darting over Peter's face, Miggs quietly asks, "You're sure?"

Peter squeezes his hands again and nods. Then he sets Miggs hands down on the man's lap, gives them one last pat, and undoes his seatbelt. Smiling again with one hand on the door handle, he motions with his other hand for Miggs to follow him.

The gap between Miggs' teeth slowly appears as he smiles in response, then ducks his head and nods a little. "Okay," he murmurs shyly, and for a moment Peter forgets he was ever nervous.

 

* * *

 

Following the short walkway up to the front door, Miggs at his side and a half-step behind, Peter notices the living room curtains twitch. He idly wonders how long his mom has been watching them, and if she was able to see into the car from that angle. Suppressing a wince as they stop in front of the door, he wonders how much teasing he can expect from her.

The doorbell has a little sign taped above it, requesting that visitors "Ring bell please!" Aside from the sound, it's hooked up to a series of lights in the house, so that his dad knows when someone's at the door. Obligingly, Peter presses the button.

From inside, he can hear the loud thudding of his mom hurrying to the door, and doesn't even bother to hide his amused grin. From the sound of it, she's wearing her big stompy boots that are about a size and a half too big and have carried her through dozens of countries for academic study and archaeological digs. His parents don't travel as much these days, but she still likes to wear them around for big chores.

The door swings open with an excited squeal of "Petey-bear!" then he has his arms full of the short exuberant woman that is his mother. Chuckling quietly, he tightens his arms around her and swings her from side to side, getting a delighted laugh in response.

When she pulls back, she lands on her feet with a dull thump and he glances down to see that yes, the stompy boots are indeed present. Hands on his shoulders, she looks him over appraisingly, then beams. "How _are_ you, honey? We've missed you!" she asks, automatically signing along as she speaks.

Peter rolls his eyes and shakes his head. _I was just here two weeks ago,_ he protests.

"And I'm not allowed to miss my baby boy in that time?" she demands with mock sternness.

Making a face at her, Peter sets a hand on her shoulder and leans down to kiss her forehead. Edith Orso is at least a head shorter than him, though her personality fills up the space her height can't quite reach.

"And who's this?" she asks, peering around him. She knows perfectly well who he is, she identified his eye color for him.

Rolling his eyes again, Peter steps aside and motions from Miggs to his mom and back again. Taking the cue, Miggs tentatively moves closer and holds out a hand. "Um, Miggs Ortega. Ma'am."

"Edith Orso," she corrects, shaking his hand enthusiastically with both of hers. "Or Edie works. I hope Peter informed you that manual labor would be involved."

Miggs smiles nervously. "Spring cleaning."

"Good!" Edith motions with one arm for him to follow her as she enters the house, playfully ignoring Peter in favor of focusing on Miggs. "Come on in, sweetie."

In the living room, Mahendra Orso is sitting with a box in front of him, rummaging around in it. He looks up as they come in, then smiles and waves in greeting. "This is Mahendra," Edith introduces, then turns to sign to her husband. "Hendie, this is Peter's friend Miggs." She spells the name for him and Hendie's eyebrows rise in recognition. "It doesn't matter what you call Hendie, he won't hear you anyway and he can't read lips very well. Do you sign?"

"Er, no. Sorry."

Edith pats his arm and then leads him further into the room. "That's alright, dear, you can learn." She gently pushes him toward the couch, then turns back to Hendie and signs while she says, "Why don't you go get some more boxes from the garage. And take Peter with you."

 _Mom!_ Peter protests, uneasy about leaving Miggs alone with her.

"Go," she says, making shooing motions with both hands.

 _M and I could get the boxes,_ he suggests.

"You don't know where they are," his mom says reasonably. "Besides, I don't want you listening in and interrupting while I tell your friend embarrassing stories about you." Miggs perks up a little and Peter covers his face with both hands and groans. This was a _terrible_ idea. He turns a pleading look toward his father, but Mahendra holds up his hands and shakes his head.

 _I do as the goddess commands,_ he signs, smiling wryly.

Edith chuckles and leans over to kiss her husband's forehead, then shoos them again and sits beside Miggs on the couch. Hendie stands and gently tugs on Peter's arm as he heads for the garage. Sending one more longing look toward Miggs, Peter reluctantly follows.

 

* * *

 

When they get to the garage, Hendie takes one look at his face and chuckles, clapping a hand on Peter's shoulder. _Quit pouting,_ he signs, then points to some boxes on top of a metal shelving unit against one wall. _Can you reach those?_

Peter hunches his shoulders a little, feeling petty, then nods and shuffles past various boxes, bags, and assorted other stacked throughout the space. As tall as he is, getting the box down isn't much of an issue. It isn't even very heavy. He carries it back toward the door and sets it down where his dad points.

They work in companionable silence for a while, Peter moving the boxes too heavy or high up for his father to get and Hendie collecting smaller items to pile up in front of the door.

Eventually Hendie taps a fingernail against a metal bucket, the echoing _tonk!_ getting Peter's attention. _Your mother would never do anything to hurt you,_ he signs, smiling wryly at him. _Embarrass you a little, yes. Hurt, no. You know this, yes?_

Reluctantly, Peter nods. There were accidental hurts in his childhood, but never intentional. And once he and his parents got to know each other better, even the accidental hurts became few and far between.

_She just wants to get to know this man who makes you smile with only his words._

Ducking his head a little, Peter can feel a blush heating his cheeks. Rubbing the back of his neck, he grimaces and looks at his father again. _He's my best friend,_ is his weak response.

Hendie's thick eyebrows rise, his expression unbelieving. _If you say so, son._

Wincing, Peter hesitates before signing, _I can't be just another asshole who hurts him._

His dad moves closer to squeeze his arm reassuringly, then grins at him. _If you worry about that, I don't think you could be._

Peter can't help the hope that appears on his face, and readily accepts the hug that his father pulls him into.


	7. Personal Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Miggs are geeks, lunch is had.  
> Featuring another of Grayce's illustrations! :D

Even though he expects it, he still winces a little as he returns to the living room with a couple boxes and hears his mom saying, "Oh he _loved_ those glasses. He used to pretend he was that engineer character from _Space Adventure_."

Miggs laughs, though, and that provides a bit of balm to the stinging knowledge that his friend is probably being shown a photo album. Coming around the couch, he can see that his suspicion is correct. His mom has a photo album open in her lap, pointing to a picture, and Miggs is leaning in to get a better look. He looks...happy. So Peter finds he can't begrudge a little embarrassment if it has Miggs smiling with his mother like that.

Clearing his throat loudly to get their attention, Peter gives his mom a questioning look and shrugs to shift the boxes he's holding. "Oh just set them anywhere," she replies, flapping a hand at the living room in general. "If you find anything you want to take home, just let me know. Or your father. Make sure to tell one of us."

Peter rolls his eyes and sets the boxes on the floor in front of the couch, then sits on Miggs' other side while he opens and digs around in the one on top. With the shifting of the cushions, Miggs ends up crowded against Peter's side. He mutters an apology, blushing as he straightens, but Peter smiles reassuringly and pats his shoulder. At that, Miggs slowly, hesitantly leans back against his side. Obligingly, Peter starts rummaging through the box one-handed so he won't jostle the man too much.

"Oh! Here he is in his Halloween costume!" his mom suddenly says, and Peter immediately wraps an arm around Miggs so he can cover the man's eyes with one hand.

"Hey!" Miggs protests, laughing a little as he tries to pry Peter's hand off. "I want to see! Is it Chief Engineer Xiong? Is that what you dressed as?"

Pulling him in closer, Peter groans and presses his forehead to the back of Miggs' hair, making him laugh again. "Oh my god, it _is_ , isn't it!"

"It was an excellent likeness of the uniform," Edith says loyally.

Peter leans his other arm over Miggs' shoulder and does his best to sign _Dead to me_ one-handed. It barely resembles the words, but Edith Orso has been his mom for a while now, so she understands anyway. Giving his hand an almost swatting pat, she says, "You love me. And you were adorable in that costume."

Dropping his arm to wrap around Miggs' waist, Peter rests his chin on the man's shoulder so he can stick his tongue out at her.

"Um?" Miggs half-protests.

Suddenly realizing he's pretty much wrapped himself completely around his friend, Peter lets go so fast that Miggs staggers a little in his seat and has to steady himself against Peter's leg to keep from falling completely into his lap. Ears burning with embarrassment, Peter busies himself with digging through the box again. He absolutely doesn't look at Miggs out of the corner of his eye and wonder at the expression on the man's face as he stares back at Peter.

"Hendie, why don't we get lunch started so it can cook while we work," Edith says, signing along with her words. When her husband nods, grinning, she shifts the photo album into Miggs' lap before standing up. "Back in about ten minutes. Behave!"

Hendie offers Edith his arm with a charming smile and she laughs as she tucks her hands around his elbow. Together they leave the room and an awkward silence descends.

After a few minutes of staring at the photo album, Miggs murmurs, "She's right, it really is an excellent likeness. And you were adorable."

Ducking his head over the box, Peter feels his mouth stretching into a pleased smile while his cheeks heat up.

 

* * *

 

 With the revelation of Peter's childhood love of _Space Adventure_ , Miggs mentions he's also a fan. After which Peter admits his childhood love of the TV show and movies never died and he still quite enjoys them.

He's not as much a fan of the gritty comic book version that was attempted in the late Nineties, but then most people weren't. That's why it had such a short run.

The movies and show, though, _those_ he never lost interest in.

"No, but it's _space_ ," Miggs argues, hands waving vaguely as if they'll somehow help prove his point. "And possibly the future. They always avoid being clear on that, but it's probably the future. Anyway, he doesn't _have_ to be straight!"

Peter already agrees with him that there's no reason Dr. Fresno couldn't be something besides straight, but he's enjoying watching Miggs get worked up while he plays devil's advocate. Scribbling on his notepad, he points out, **_He was married._ **

"They never say to _who,_ though! Or _what_ for that matter. For all we know, he's happily married to a male Galagnexor!"

Peter doesn't bother to point out that the grim-and-gritty comic series revealed Dr. Fresno's wife to be a four-breasted unnamed alien woman who may or may not have been having an affair with Lump Sharkboard. It was cancelled before that whole messy subplot could be resolved. Even so, hardly anyone considers the comics canon, anyway. They actually contradicted a number of established elements of the movies and show, such as the treaty with the Asvosians and the crew's policy of attempting diplomacy before violence. He's pretty sure the comic's creators were only given a vague summary of what _Space Adventure_ was about and then told to wing it.

A stern expression on his face, Miggs pokes a finger at Peter's chest and says, "Don't take this away from lonely, gay, adolescent me, Peter. The thought of Dr. Fresno going home to his big, strong husband at the end of an adventure got nerdy teenage me through some tough times."

Unable to hold back his laughter anymore, Peter takes Miggs hand in his and gently pets it with the other. With a look of mock outrage, Miggs swats at him repeatedly and gasps, "You were just winding me _up_ , you asshole! Oh my _god_ , Peter! No, fuck you!"

He's grinning, so Peter figures he's already forgiven and uses his grip on Miggs' hand to pull him into a hug, still chuckling. Miggs goes stiff in his arms for a moment, surprised, then slowly relaxes into the embrace. "Asshole," he grumbles without any heat, sounding affectionate.

There's a sound from the direction of the kitchen, but Peter is momentarily distracted by the smell of Miggs' shampoo, so he ignores it. Then he hears the unmistakable sound of his mother's boots stomping closer, the sound almost deliberate in its volume.

"Lunch is ready!" she calls from just outside the living room.

Miggs jerks and pulls away from him. His cheeks are dark, but he's smiling. "Well," he says shyly. "Can't keep your parents waiting."

Peter tilts his head in acknowledgement, then stands and offers Miggs a hand up. Miggs stares at it for a moment, then tentatively takes Peter's hand, eyes widening in surprise when Peter easily pulls him up. Free hand falling on Peter's other arm while he gets his balance, Miggs mumbles more to himself than to Peter, "Looks like all that muscle isn't just for show."

Snorting in amusement at that, Peter lets go of Miggs hand so he can write, **_Carried U from bar to cab & cab to apt. last night._ **

Eyes widening as he reads the note, Miggs glances from one of Peter's arms to the other, then back to the note. " _Oh_ ," he says in a tiny voice.

Peter tucks his notepad away again and gives Miggs a reassuring smile before throwing an arm over his shoulders and leading him to the dining room and the delicious smells of lunch.

 

* * *

 

Lunch is a simple vegetarian curry and rice with naan, and after that morning's subpar omelettes, Peter is eager to dig in. Miggs hesitates, but once he sees how it's dished out he quickly fills his own plate.

"You don't have any food allergies, do you, Miggs?" Edith asks belatedly, looking concerned.

Miggs shakes his head quickly. "No. No allergies. It smells good."

Beaming at him, Edie replies, "Hendie did most of the spice work, I mainly just chopped."

Uncertain, Miggs turns to Hendie and says, "Lunch smells good." Then he shoots Peter a vaguely panicked look, probably remembering Edith's earlier warning that Hendie can't lip-read very well.

Peter chuckles and gives Miggs' wrist a reassuring pat, then turns to his father. _M says it smells good,_ he signs.

With a snort and a roll of his eyes, Hendie replies, _I know it_ **_smells_ ** _good. Eat! Tell me if it tastes any good!_ He gestures insistently toward the food with both hands.

"Hendie says to tell him if it tastes as good as it smells," Edith paraphrases with the ease of years of practice. Then she scoops up a bite and starts eating.

Everyone takes that as their cue to begin the meal, and for a little while the only sounds are silverware against ceramic. The food is exactly as delicious as it smells and Peter gives his dad a thumbs-up and a grin. Miggs follows his example and gives a somewhat tentative thumbs-up as well.

Once her plate is about half empty, Edith sets her spoon down and asks, "So Miggs, what do you do?"

Miggs quickly swallows and replies, "Oh. Um, I'm a professor at Seattle Public University."

"Really!" Edith says, delighted. "What do you teach, honey?"

"Advanced Engineering?"

Hendie raises a questioning eyebrow at Peter and Peter sets his own spoon down so he can translate for Miggs. Only getting half the conversation, he knows, can be annoying as hell. _M teaches advanced engineering at S-P-U._

 _He is smart as well!_ Hendie signs back happily.

 _Very,_ Peter agrees, smiling.

"Hendie and I both teach at West Bellevue University. Though we actually met on a dig. How did you two meet?"

"Uh..." Miggs glances at Peter uncertainly and Peter shrugs in response. He hasn't told his parents anything about that yet, and he doesn't really care what Miggs decides to tell them. "He um..." Swallowing audibly, he says, "He took me to breakfast and cheered me up after my boyfriend broke up with me and kicked me out."

 _Asshole ex kicked him out so I got him breakfast,_ Peter translates, then reaches over to cup a hand over Miggs' on the table.

Eyes crinkling as he smiles, Hendie signs, _I am proud of you, son. Well done._

"Oh you poor thing," Edith says softly. "I'm so glad Peter was there for you, that sounds awful. Well, good riddance to bad rubbish. It sounds like you're better off without that _pendejo_."

Startled, Miggs' eyes widen as he stares at her and Edith smiles wryly. "I'm a linguist, sweetie, I know a few curse words."

"Sorry, I... No, you're right." Looking down at his plate, Miggs bites his lip as if trying to hold back his smile. "I'm better off without him. He was hot but dumb as a brick. And..." He looks up to smile at Peter. "I'm really lucky I met Peter." Turning his hand palm up, he slowly curls his fingers around Peter's hand.

Feeling his ears heat up again, Peter smiles back. He's pretty sure the smile is ridiculously adoring, but he can't really bring himself to care. There's something warm and liquid expanding in his chest, making him want nothing more than to keep making Miggs smile like that.

 

* * *

 

 The work begins in earnest after lunch, and by the time the sun is getting low in the sky they have a sizable portion of the garage's contents sorted into things to keep, things to throw away, and things to donate. Peter only finds a few things he's interested in keeping, more practical than sentimental. He's never been able to break the habit of packing light and living sparsely.

More importantly, though, his parents seem to like Miggs and Miggs in turn has relaxed around them. Peter's mom even gives him a hug on the front porch as they're leaving.

"You're welcome back any time, sweetie," Edith tells Miggs with her arms wrapped around him. Miggs' hands awkwardly hover at his sides while he gives Peter a slightly panicked look, like he's not sure how to handle physical affection.

Smirking a little, Peter winks at him, then clears his throat loudly. When his mom looks up, he signs, _What, no hug for me?_

" _You_ can wait your damn turn," Edith scolds affectionately, smiling as she lets go of Miggs to hug Peter. "Impatient son. Must've learned that from your father."

Peter snorts and shakes his head at that obvious untruth, curling over her as he hugs back. When they part, she turns back to Miggs again and smiles, "It really was good to meet you. I'm glad Peter decided to quit hiding you away from us."

Tapping her shoulder to get his mom's attention, Peter makes a face at her and signs, _Didn't want you to scare him away._

"Peter Allan Orso!" Edith exclaims in mock outrage. "We would _not_ have scared away your friend!"

_I wasn't talking about Dad._

Edith gasps, trying to hold back her laughter as she swats at him. "Go! Go _on_ , ungrateful child! Miggs, you can come back by yourself next time. My son can stand out here and pout while I tell you embarrassing stories."

Lifting an arm to ward her off, Peter laughs and tugs on Miggs' sleeve while he backs away toward the car.

"Um, it was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Orso!" Miggs calls back, waving a little.

"It's _Edith_ , sweetie!"

Miggs' mouth moves a few times while his cheeks quickly darken, then he gives up and retreats to the driver's side door. Grinning, Peter tosses a quick _Love you!_ at his mom and climbs into the passenger's side.

They sit there for about a minute, Miggs staring down at his keys and Peter watching him curiously. Finally, Miggs murmurs, "That was...nice."

Smiling, Peter pulls out his notepad and quickly writes, **_They like you._ **

Miggs bites his lip and glances up to meet Peter's eyes hopefully. "You think so?"

For all her joking, Peter could tell his mom was serious about bringing Miggs back. He nods and Miggs' shoulders slump in relief.

"Good. That's...good." Expression shy, Miggs adds, "They seem nice."

Peter snorts and rolls his eyes. **_Just b/c Mom told U stories._ ** he writes.

That makes Miggs laugh. "That was certainly a plus." He takes a deep breath and sighs it out, smile going a little regretful. "Well...I guess I better get you home."

Sobering a little, Peter realizes he's not quite ready to part ways. A thought hits him and he slowly smiles, putting a hand over Miggs' as he's putting the key in the ignition. When Miggs stops to look up at him, Peter's smile widens and he shakes his head.

"No?" Miggs asks, eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

Peter lets go of Miggs' hand to point down a street they definitely didn't get there by. Uncertain, Miggs searches his face for a clue as to what he's getting at, but only gets a playful grin.

Slowly smiling back, Miggs says, "Okay." Then he turns the key and starts off in the direction Peter is pointing.


	8. Try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talking happens! Also: title drop! :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: sexual situations.  
> See End Notes for overview if you're not cool with that.

The sun has set by the time they get to the nearby park, and stars are starting to come out. There's much less light pollution here, so they're easily visible.

Peter directs Miggs to a parking spot away from the main road, a few trees blocking it from view. Back when he lived in the area, it was popular among horny teenagers looking for somewhere to _Park_ for a while, but luckily it's deserted right now.

Once Miggs turns the car off and the headlights with it, it's dark enough that Peter can take off his glasses without worrying about migraines or stabbing eyeball pain. He folds them up and tucks an earpiece over his collar, before shooting Miggs a grin and getting out of the car.

They end up laying side by side on the hood of the car, shoulders pressed together. Miggs has apparently upgraded the vehicle enough that the hood can easily hold the weight of two grown men. He also apparently has an interest in astronomy, because he's able to point out a few constellations. Peter doesn't particularly care about constellations, but he happily listens to the rise and fall of the man's voice.

After a few minutes Miggs falls silent, body language shifting towards apprehension. "Peter?" he asks nervously.

Peter hums to indicate he's listening, turning his head to look at the man. Miggs is biting his lip as he stares up at the sky. "I...I want to ask you something," he says, voice barely above a whisper. "And you don't have to answer! It's none of my business. But..."

Miggs' fingers are tapping against the hood, a rapid little burst of nerves, and Peter gently sets his hand over them. Startled, Miggs turns his head to look at him. Heart pounding, Peter slowly threads their fingers together and smiles encouragingly.

"I want to tell you something," Miggs blurts, then takes a deep breath and adds, "But I need to ask you first. Does that...make sense?"

When Peter nods, Miggs closes his eyes and tightens his fingers just a little around Peter's. "I... Are... Are you adopted?"

Peter stares at him for a moment, then snorts in amusement and turns his head to look up at the stars. Well, that's a relief. He was starting to get worried. That's...a pretty standard question. He's fairly certain no one has ever looked at him with his parents and thought yes, yes these people are absolutely related by blood. His mom is black, his dad is Indian, and Peter is...something Asian, though that's as much as he's ever been inclined to narrow it down. Honestly, he would've been concerned if Miggs _didn't_ figure that out.

Turning his head to look at Miggs again, he realizes the man is staring at him anxiously. Then he realizes he never actually answered. Smiling wryly, he nods.

Miggs slowly lets out a deep breath. "Okay. Okay..." He looks like he's steeling himself and he closes his eyes again. "I... M-My parents died when I was about six. Then later I...aged out of foster care." He opens his eyes again, shining wetly even in the low lighting, and gives Peter a sickly smile. "I had some anger issues. No one wants to adopt a kid with issues."

That...isn't what he was expecting. He isn't sure _what_ he was expecting, but it wasn't that. And Miggs, his brave and wonderful friend, shared it with him because he thought Peter might understand, at least a little. He's seeking the connection that their shared experience might provide.

He's staring. He knows he's staring, and he can tell it's making Miggs nervous. He also feels a swooping in his gut from the obligation he feels to reciprocate. Miggs already knows he was adopted, it's obvious, it's not something Peter had to admit to him, just confirm.

He knows what to tell him. And he knows he's under no actual obligation to tell him. Miggs would say as much. But...he _wants_ to. Peter wants Miggs to know that he _understands_ being a kid with issues who no one wants to adopt.

He also hasn't willingly told anyone since...ever. And in recent years, no one has even suspected.

He _wants_ to tell Miggs. The old learned fear of rejection is rearing its ugly head, though, clawing at his insides and curdling thick and acidic in his brain.

Squeezing Miggs' hand, tighter than he means to if the man's wince is any indication, Peter lets go to start typing on his phone. It's too dark out to attempt to write on his notepad. Plus texting it makes it a bit more impersonal, which he thinks he needs right now.

**Dad was in an accident a few years before they met me. Partial loss of hearing. Drs said it was going to get worse over time. It did.**

Miggs fishes his phone out when it goes off and gives Peter a confused look before opening the text. While he reads, Peter keeps typing.

**So they learned sign language. By the time they found out they couldn't have kids, they were pretty good.**

When Miggs' phone chimes with the incoming text, Miggs reaches over to touch Peter's arm. "Peter, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to."

Peter squeezes his eyes shut and nods, then starts typing the next message, tiny tremors in his hands making the task harder than it should be. **Mom decided it was a sign that it was meant to be when the agency warned them I was deaf.**

He hesitates, thumb hovering over the button to send it, then presses it before he can talk himself out of it. Leaning back, he rests his phone on his chest and stares upward blankly. He feels a little numb, and a tiny voice in the back of his head is whispering that he's going to need to walk back to his parents' home because Miggs is going to decide that Peter isn't worth the trouble anymore.

Balling one hand into a tight fist at his side, he presses it against his thigh and tells himself that Miggs wouldn't do that.

"I...I noticed there weren't any baby pictures," Miggs finally whispers tentatively.

Peter turns his head to look at him and...Miggs doesn't look like he's planning to leave. His expression is open and vulnerable. It's beautiful.

Picking his phone up off his chest, he considers typing **Born into captivity** , but decides that sounds just a little _too_ bitter. Instead he settles for, **I was 10 when they adopted me.**

"Oh," Miggs murmurs, and from his voice Peter can tell he's reading between the lines. Which means Peter doesn't need to explain how his genetic donors had no interest in him from the start, unwilling or unable to attempt to deal with his _issues_.

The hand hesitantly reaching out to hold his is a surprise, and Miggs looks almost terrified at his own actions. Peter smiles gratefully and gently laces their fingers together again.

"You didn't have to tell me," Miggs tells him quietly, and Peter nods to acknowledge that he knows. Ducking his head a little, Miggs says, "Thank you, Peter."

Typing one-handed, because he doesn't want to let go of Miggs' hand, Peter texts, **U R important to me.**

Miggs looks up from the text to stare at him hopefully. "I... You're important to me too."

Peter can't seem to stop staring at the man's mouth. He _wants_ , so badly. He's lusted after people before, but this feels different somehow. He wants to kiss and hold and have sex with Miggs, but at the same time he'd be perfectly fine just continuing to do _this_. Just _being_ together.

Slipping his phone back into his pocket so it's out of the way, Peter rolls onto his side a little. He slowly reaches out with his free hand to cup Miggs' cheek, and watches in fascination as the man's eyelids flutter closed. There's barely enough light to see them by, but Peter wants to kiss every single freckle on Miggs' face.

Then Miggs tilts his face up, lips slightly parted, and Peter decides to start with his mouth.

 

* * *

 

 One kiss becomes two, becomes a continuous slide of lips against each other, the wet sound of it filling the still night air. Threading his fingers into the soft curls under Miggs' ear, Peter presses closer, kissing deeper. Miggs whimpers quietly and Peter wants nothing more than to hear that sound again and again.

Gently stroking his thumb over Miggs' cheekbone, Peter gives the man's bottom lip a nibble before swiping his tongue over it. Miggs gasps against his mouth, his free hand coming up to grab at Peter's hip, fingers digging in with something like desperation. Peter wants to tell him there's no need for it, that he's not going anywhere, but he also kind of likes Miggs being desperate for him.

They part briefly so Peter can look over Miggs' face, eyes heavy-lidded and lips swollen, before he dives in again to suck on that bottom lip. Miggs lets out a quiet moan, his grip on Peter's hand tightening, and Peter squeezes back. He runs his tongue over the gap in Miggs' front teeth, fascinated by the sensation, until the man makes an indignant sound and he's able to slip his tongue further into Miggs' mouth. Miggs inhales sharply, surprised, but soon whines in pleasure at the slick glide of their tongues against each other.

Peter moves his hand down to cup Miggs' jaw, using the light grip to tilt the man's head, then slides his hand back to bury his fingers in thick curls. Miggs gasps suddenly, breaking the kiss, and Peter's fingers clench reflexively. Miggs shudders and moans, hips writhing upward against empty air. Experimentally, testing a theory, Peter gives his hair a gentle tug, and Miggs whimpers with pleasure. Oh he can do _so much_ with that. Peter _wants_ to do so much. Wants to drape his entire body over the man and rut against him until he's crying out Peter's name and they both come in their pants. Wants to grip Miggs' hair in both hands and fuck into his eager mouth, watch those spit-shiny lips stretch over his cock. Wants to reach down and pull Miggs' dick out of his pants so he can watch the man's face while he jerks him off.

Feeling a little overwhelmed by the intensity of his desire for Miggs, Peter pulls back just a little, resting his forehead against Miggs' as they both pant for breath. Eyelashes fluttering a little as he stares at Peter with hazy eyes, Miggs whispers, "Peter...what is this?"

Peter shrugs a little helplessly and smiles at him, bringing his hand back up to Miggs' cheek and brushing his thumb over the man's bottom lip. It's warm and wet and soft, and Miggs' tongue darts out to flick over the tip of Peter's thumb. Peter's breath shudders into his lungs and his grip tightens just a little, holding Miggs' in place while he leans back in to drop light kisses onto the man's mouth. He finds himself grinning against Miggs' lips, feeling almost giddy.

When he pulls away again, Miggs is smiling back, picking up on his mood. He lifts his hand from Peter's hip and reaches up to lightly trace his fingers over Peter's cheek. "What are we _doing_?" he asks quietly.

Cupping a hand over Miggs' Peter turns his head to press a damp kiss to the man's palm. Then he laughs softly and shakes his head. He has absolutely no idea what he's doing, what they're doing. What this is or what it means. He just wants to _keep_ doing it. Wants to keep kissing and touching Miggs, keep being near him, keep exchanging silly texts with him.

He continues to hold Miggs' hand in place, gently rubbing the side of his face against it, then kissing the palm again. Another kiss falls just below it, then another, until he's kissing Miggs' wrist, tongue lightly tracing over a vein there. He starts kissing down the length of Miggs' arm until he's gently sucking on the soft skin of his inner elbow. Miggs squirms and whimpers beside him, fingers tensing and relaxing reflexively.

"Peter please— _Oh!_ " Miggs gasps, arching his back and tilting his head back in such a beautiful invitation that Peter releases his arm so he can move to hover over him and press a kiss to the curve of the man's throat. "God! Oh god, Peter. Please, _please_ tell me this isn't a-a-a one-off thing. I can't do that, not with you."

Peter quickly shakes his head and moves up to kiss his mouth, trying to reassure him. Pulling his phone out, he stares at it for a moment, biting his lip uncertainly, as he tries to decide what he wants to say. Finally he types, **IDK what this is, but I want to keep doing it. Never felt like this before.**

When Peter just turns his phone around so Miggs can read it, rather than sending it, an adorably perplexed frown forms on the man's face and Peter huffs in amusement before kissing his cheek. After reading it, Miggs snorts and grins at him. "Oh my god, that's such a _line_ ," he laughs.

It is, Peter realizes, laughing with him. It's the kind of cliche line someone might try using in order to get into the pants of someone looking for a more serious relationship. But while Peter definitely wants into Miggs' pants, he... _does_ want more. And he's never really wanted that with someone before. Companionship, certainly, but not the way he wants it with Miggs.

Erasing the text, he quickly starts typing again and holds it out for Miggs to read. **It's true! I don't date. But I think I want to try?**

Miggs' eyes widen as he reads it, then looks up to search Peter's face for any indication he's not being sincere. "...Really?" he whispers.

Peter nods, and then has to lean in and kiss the silly grin on Miggs' face, because there's just no way he _can't_. Laughing happily, Miggs wraps his arms around Peter's neck and nudges their noses together as he kisses back. "Okay," he says. "Okay, we can try."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OVERVIEW: Second section is almost entirely detailed make-outs interspersed with Peter being ridiculously smitten and Miggs trying to get clarification of what they are. If you're okay with a little light kissing, you can probably drop back in at _"God! Oh god, Peter. Please, please tell me this isn't a-a-a one-off thing. I can't do that, not with you."_ From there on it's mostly relationship talk.
> 
> Also, fair warning, there will be an increase in sexual situations from this point on. I will do my best to continue doing what I've been doing, warning that it's there and providing overviews in the End Notes. I will also do my best to let you know if there're any plotty bits hiding in the smut. It's not going to be all porn all the time in upcoming chapters, don't worry, but...well, they're dating now and they find each other sexy. So sex is going to be a part of their relationship. ^_^


	9. Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some introspection, some texting, and some selfies.  
> Includes illustrations from Grayce!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: sexual situations. (New tags!)  
> See End Notes for where to skip and an overview of the skipped stuff.
> 
> Also, I may need to skip this week's Sunday update so I can focus on some writing commissions that are going to pay my phone bill. I don't know yet for certain, but just assume that there won't be another update till next Wednesday. :(  
> Sorry, I intend to continue updating twice a week, but...well, my phone's been shut off and I need it for work. So I have to prioritize, unfortunately.

They spend a little more time kissing and touching each other before a passing car spooks Miggs and breaks the mood. They finally notice the time then, and realize how late it's gotten. Reluctantly, they agree to call it a night.

As Miggs pulls up in front of Peter's apartment building, he almost asks the man to come up with him. His home isn't really guest-friendly, though. Besides, he wants to do this _right_. He's pretty sure that means no sex on the first date. Though he's less sure that the day's outing actually counts as a date.

After taking his seatbelt off, Peter hesitates with a hand on the door handle. Miggs gives him a questioning look, opening his mouth to say something. Peter turns, hand coming up to cup Miggs' cheek, and interrupts him with a lingering kiss. When Peter pulls back, Miggs' cheeks are dark and he looks stunned. Ducking his head a little, Miggs glances up at Peter through his eyelashes and gives him a shy smile. Grinning in response, Peter leans in again to kiss the tip of his nose before finally climbing out of the car.

When he opens the back door to grab the small bag of things he'd picked out to keep from the garage purge, he hears Miggs groan and looks up in time to see him press his forehead to the top of the steering wheel. Miggs glances back when he hears Peter chuckling and makes a face at him.

"Go," he grumbles, hunching his shoulders a little. "Before I do something embarrassing like beg you to come back home with me."

Peter almost nods, imagining getting back into the passenger seat and smirking at Miggs, going home with him and laying him out on his bed, taking his time getting to know Miggs' body, falling asleep wrapped around him...

Instead he winks and forces himself to close the door and turn toward his building. Behind him, he can hear Miggs' car still sitting there at the curb. Regretting it with every step, Peter goes inside.

Upstairs, in the quiet stillness of his bare apartment, he groans and leans back against his front door. He rarely bothers with lights when he's at home, so it's dark enough for him to take his glasses off again. Rubbing a hand over his face, he considers fixing a quick dinner but he doesn't really feel hungry.

He wants to get things right with Miggs. For once, he wants it to actually work out instead of dissolving into resentment and tears and...accusations of Peter being incapable of basic human emotions. He wants to treat Miggs the way he deserves to be treated.

Unfortunately he's not actually sure how to do that, since he hasn't attempted anything but meaningless hookups since he was a teenager, thoroughly disillusioned with the idea of dating. He'll figure it out, though. He's good at that.

Biting his lip, he reaches down to press a hand against the bulge in the front of his pants. He probably _shouldn't_ still feel guilty at the idea of jerking off fantasizing about Miggs again, but he somehow does. If he's going to take things slow with him, though, he's going to need to get over that in a hurry because there is no way he's going to be able to get through courting the man without masturbating.

Peter sighs and starts toward his bedroom, stripping off his shirt along the way. He tosses it into the hamper and starts emptying his pockets onto the box next to his futon bed. He toes off his sneakers and then his pants join the shirt. His glasses go on the box as well and then he grabs the protective case he stores his hearing aids in so he can take them out and put them away. He'll probably fall asleep once he's done and he doesn't want to deal with the discomfort he knows he'll wake up to if he falls asleep with his hearing aids in for the second night in a row.

Stripping off his undershirt and boxers, he tosses them in the direction of the hamper, not really caring at this point if they make it in. He grabs his phone from on top of the box and scrolls through the selfies of Miggs that he's saved. If he's going to do this, he might as well go all the way, at least _earn_ the damn guilt.

He stops on the picture of Miggs in bed, soft-eyed and smiling affectionately, hair spilling enticingly across the pillow. He knows what that hair feels like between his fingers, now. How eager and pliant Miggs gets if he pulls on it, the way he moans...

He's just gotten his hand around his now-stiff cock when his phone suddenly vibrates in his hand. He feels a yelp of surprise escape him as he drops it beside him on the bed. Staring at it as if it were a snake poised to strike, he slowly picks it back up and checks the screen. It's a text from Miggs.

Huffing a wry laugh, he pulls it up. **It's not too soon to text, is it?**

 **Not driving, R U?** he sends back, then gives his dick a light, uncertain stroke. The surprise hasn't decreased its enthusiasm in the slightest, and he wonders whether it would be wrong to jerk off while texting Miggs. It seems a little borderline as far as consent goes.

His phone vibrates again and this time there's a picture of Miggs standing in his apartment and sticking his tongue out at him. Peter grins at it, and at the text accompanying it: **I'm not THAT desperate. I waited till I parked to immediately text you after spending the entire day with you and making out in a park.**

**LOL. Not too soon then.**

**No pic? :(**

Before he can think better of it, he types, **U asking for nudes? ;)  
**

He's already kicking himself as soon as his phone confirms that it sent, and not even a minute later Miggs texts back, **You're naked??  
**

Peter thinks it over for a moment, then groans and against his better judgement he lifts his phone above himself and takes a picture from the chest up. **I sleep nude.** he types to go with it.

He has enough time to give his cock a few more light strokes before Miggs responds. **Oh.**  Then a moment later, **You look red, are you OK?**

Mentally cursing, Peter groans and lets go of his cock, squeezing his eyes shut as he grips his phone in both hands and presses the edge of it to his forehead. Of _course_ Miggs would notice, and of _course_ he's red. Fuck, that was such a stupid move. Sending nudes while jerking off is not going slow! He is already fucking it up and it hasn't even been a day.

Letting his arms flop down on the bed away from his body, he stares up at the ceiling and lets fatalism sweep over him for a few moments. Why did he ever think he could be capable of an actual relationship? Just because Miggs makes him smile and blush and feel giddy doesn't mean he'll be able to _love_ him. Just because he wants to _try_ doesn't mean he'll _succeed_. He's traded in an incredible friendship for a hopeless endeavor and he's going to end up hurting Miggs because of it.

His phone vibrates in his hand and he lifts it up to look at the screen. **Peter you're worrying me. Are you OK?**

Sighing out a deep breath, he rolls onto his side and taps out a quick response. **Just kicking myself for actually sending a nude pic.**

 **I don't mind.** Miggs sends, then adds, **I wouldn't mind more.** Just a few seconds later he sends, **Shit. Sorry. That was too forward, wasn't it?**

**Considering I'm red b/c I was jerking off not rly.**

Peter stares at the screen in horror, reading over what he just sent. Dropping the phone at his side, he turns his head and presses his face into his pillow so he can scream without disturbing his neighbors. He's not sure how loud it is, but it feels loud and his throat hurts after, so it's probably good that he muffled it.

He can feel his phone vibrating next to him but he just presses his face harder against the pillow and groans. He's probably even redder now, his face and ears feel sunburned.

His phone vibrates again and he sighs, reluctantly turning his head so he can see where it fell. Picking it up, he looks over Miggs' texts with nervous acid churning in his gut.

**Really??**

**Were you thinking about me?**

**God I'm sorry, I keep fucking this up. Nevermind. :(**

Peter grimaces, feeling guilty knowing that he made Miggs think he'd made a mistake. Blowing out a breath, he slowly responds. **Y. Y. U didn't fuck up I did. Sorry.**

It takes a long minute or two for Miggs to respond to that. When he does, Peter's eyes widen and he sits up, staring at the picture Miggs sent. Cheeks flushed and biting his lip, Miggs looks nervous but hopeful. He's in bed, leaning back against the headboard, an arm wrapped around his bare torso. He has his head tilted so his curls are falling over his eyes and...god, he's so gorgeous.

Peter almost doesn't notice the text, distracted by the picture and the warmth blooming in his chest and the renewed throbbing of his cock. Then he scrolls a little further, knowing the picture doesn't go down past Miggs' arm but hoping anyway, and sees it: **Were you really thinking about me?**

**Yes. God I want to kiss U.**

After a moment Miggs replies, **Show me how much?** Then almost immediately after, **Please?**

Is Miggs really asking for a dick pic? Hoping he's reading it right, Peter hesitates for just a little while before propping himself up on one elbow and holding out his phone, trying to tilt it right. His dick is dark and hard, curving up against Peter's stomach over his abundant body hair. It takes him two tries before he gets the angle right, catching his dick as well as the blush on his face. **Want to kiss every freckle on UR body.**

 **I'd like that.** Miggs sends back. Then after a moment he sends another picture. He's still biting his lip uncertainly and his face is still dark with his blush, but his arm is no longer around his middle. Instead he has a hand wrapped around his cock, the accompanying text reading: **Sorry, I've never done this before.**

There's a freckle on his dick.

Peter groans, mouth watering. He desperately wants to suck that man's cock. That is a thing that he _needs_ to do eventually. It's just not _fair_ that Miggs' asshole ex had access to a dick that pretty and only sucked it once. If there is any justice in the universe, once they get to that point in their relationship Miggs won't go more than a _week_ without a blowjob.

Making use of the excess saliva at his disposal, Peter messily licks his palm and reaches down to take his dick in hand again. One-handed, he types, **Now I RLY want to kiss all UR freckles.**

**I really want you to. :) But I also want you to kiss my mouth.**

Keeping his strokes light and slow, Peter brings to mind what kissing Miggs in the park was like. **U like when I pulled UR hair? U made some rly amazing sounds.**

 **Oh. Um. Yes, I did.** Peter imagines Miggs biting his lip again and looking away in the time it takes him to add, **Would you do it again when you kiss me?**

Imagining those thick curls against his palm, the way they clung to his fingers when he tightened his grip, he groans. **Y. Want to hear those sounds again. Want to make U moan.**

**Tell me what you'd do to me? If you were here?**

Even as turned on as he is, Peter takes note of that wording. Miggs wants him to do things _to_ him. He groans again, thinking about having free reign to play with the man's body. **Hold U down & kiss U first. Get a hand good & deep in UR hair & make a fist.** he sends, then fucks up into his hand imagining it.

Miggs just sends a **Yes.** so Peter grins and guesses that he's driving this thing. That's just fine, he doesn't mind taking control if Miggs wants.

 **Kiss you til UR gasping, then start kissing UR neck. Suck a bruise so if punchface or asshole ex see U they know UR taken.** A nice dark hickie, maybe close enough to his collar that he could hide it if he needed to but show it off when he wanted. To show that Peter had been there and Peter had staked a claim.

**Please! Want that so much.**

Imagining Miggs writhing under him, at his mercy, Peter has to slow down his strokes to keep from coming too soon. **Show me how much.** he demands.

When Miggs finally sends the picture, Peter has to grab the base of his cock tightly to stave off orgasm. The angle is a little odd and he's pretty sure that's part of Miggs' finger along the side of the picture, but none of that matters because Miggs has gotten much farther along than Peter realized. Miggs' phone is somewhere above his head and Miggs is on his front with his ass in the air, the long, freckled expanse of his back on display while the fingers of his other hand are sunk deep inside of him. There's a shine on one buttcheek that suggests a significant amount of lube has been used. The curve of Miggs' spine is absolutely gorgeous, and Peter wishes he was viewing it from behind him.

**Fuck. Want2 lick down ur spine. Hold u open while u finger urself till u can take my cock. How many fingers is that?**

**2 fingers. God i want your cock. Please let me hav iit.**

Peter starts stroking himself again, pace more leisurely. He closes his eyes for a moment, imagining kneeling behind Miggs with an asscheek in each hand, holding them apart so he can more easily see Miggs' fingers working at his hole. Imagines it slick with lube and almost, _almost_ ready for him. **Not yet. Add another finger.**

His phone vibrates a moment later and he gasps. The angle is even more awkward on this picture, and the lighting is terrible, but Miggs has clearly done his best to take a picture of his own ass. He's using three fingers now, hand blurred a little because he apparently hadn't been willing to stop fucking himself long enough to take the picture. His legs are spread and Peter can see his cock and balls hanging heavy between them.

**Think u cn come just from my cock?**

**Myabe??**

**Try. Dont tuoch ur cock. Just focus on me fucking in & out o u.**

Peter wonders what Miggs sounds like right now. Is he moaning? Whimpering? How loud is the sound of lubed fingers thrusting in and out of his ass?

Very, he decides, imagining the wet squelch of it, hips thrusting up as he imagines pulling out Miggs’ fingers and sliding into that tight heat himself. He would whine, Peter decides. Yes...but he would _moan_ when Peter grabbed his hair and used it to pull him back and forth on his dick.

**Plesae! Poleasepleaseplde!!**

He definitely wants to hear Miggs beg in person. Peter gets the feeling he's very good at it. For now, though... **I'll grab ur hair 2 hold u stedy while i fuck in2 u.**

**Fcuk please! Plesde let m come!**

Peter's mouth stretches into a smirk even as his breath starts coming faster. He can practically hear Miggs' desperation and he speeds up his strokes, tightening his hand as he imagines thrusting in and out of Miggs' ass. **Nevr sed u couldnt. Just dont tuch ur dick.**

The next text he gets is an indecipherable string of letters and Peter assumes it means Miggs has come. He closes his eyes again, picturing it. Miggs boneless and moaning underneath him, ass twitching around Peter's cock as the aftershocks of Miggs' orgasm spasm through his body. Peter leans over him and slides his tongue up the knobby bumps of his spine, one hand on his hip and the other in his hair and his grip tightening as he pounds into him harder, chasing his own release.

His phone vibrates against his arm and Peter groans, feeling the tingle of orgasm creeping up on him. He opens his eyes to pull up the text and gasps at the picture Miggs sent. The man is sprawled on his back, covers messy and bunched underneath him, expression dazed and blush reaching down to his chest. He's completely naked, obviously, but more importantly, his dick is lying limp against his hip and his stomach is covered in pale liquid. A few spatters have landed above his ribs, but most of it is concentrated on his stomach, glistening in the low light of Miggs' bedroom.

A shout escapes him as his cock suddenly twitches in his grip and he starts coming all over his hand and stomach. Peter moans, hips moving restlessly as he fucks his hand all the way through it.

When he's finally done coming and his cock is starting to get oversensitive, Peter relaxes back against his pillow, catching his breath. That was...much more intense than he had expected the evening to be.

He needs to clean up soon, dried spunk is _not_ fun to clean out of his body hair. First, he decides to return the favor. Holding his phone over himself, he smiles tiredly up at it. When it's sent, he reaches to the side of the bed and grabs a few tissues to mop up his mess. He's too wrung out to do anything more, but it should do until he can shower tomorrow.

The phone vibrates on the bed beside him and Peter grabs it in one hand while he pulls the blanket over himself with the other. Rolling onto his side and getting comfortable, he opens the text to see what Miggs has to say.

**That was better than I thought it would be.**

Peter grins, then yawns widely. **Ditto. Thnx. Sleep well.**

Eyelids already drooping, he drags them open again when his phone vibrates in his hand. **You too. :)**

Closing out of the conversation, Peter pulls up the picture he was originally planning to jerk off to. From the screen, Miggs smiles affectionately at him, and Peter drifts off wishing he could kiss those lips goodnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OVERVIEW: If you want to avoid dicks entirely, skip out at _He's good at that._ If you're okay with dicks but want to avoid the sexting, stop at...uh...okay, it's actually kinda hard to tell exactly where the sexting begins, but to be safe let's say... _ **No pic? :(**_
> 
> If you're avoiding dicks: Peter is considering jerking off to the selfie of Miggs in bed but is startled by Miggs texting him. They flirt a little, Peter sends a selfie and immediately regrets it, Miggs notices how flushed he is and voices concern. Peter worries he's "traded in an incredible friendship for a hopeless endeavor and he's going to end up hurting Miggs because of it." Peter eventually admits what he was doing and Miggs expresses interest. Sexts and explicit selfies are exchanged, orgasms for all. You can hop back in at _The phone vibrates on the bed beside him_
> 
> If you're okay with some mention of dicks but don't want the details: All that stuff up there, and you can come back a little earlier at _Peter relaxes back against his pillow_
> 
> Illustrations are in the skipped parts and contain partial nudity (no dicks), but if you want to see them: [here's Peter](https://drive.google.com/open?id=0BwWf0BjrymRzSjhkVXNvM2VJX1E) and [here's Miggs](https://drive.google.com/open?id=0BwWf0BjrymRzNngwNmtlcW50NWc).
> 
> If I timed things wrong, please let me know so I can fix it. It was a little difficult to guess where to advise skipping since there's a lot of build-up involved. And as mentioned previously, sexual situations will be more frequent from this point onward but I'll be continuing to include overviews like this one if you're looking to avoid that stuff. :)


	10. Good Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after their relationship has changed, and plans are made.

When his phone vibrates under his pillow and wakes him, Peter considers ignoring it. He's having some of the best sleep he's had in months and he doesn't want to give that up. There are too many things it could be, though, so ignoring it really isn't an option.

Groan rumbling through his chest and throat, Peter shoves a hand under the pillow to grab his phone. Cracking open a gummy eye, he checks the screen and finds a text from Miggs:  **Eating cold cereal and wishing you were here.**

Sighing, Peter closes his eyes again and haphazardly stabs at the buttons with a thumb.  **Y u wake ths rly?**

He's already drifting off when Miggs responds a moment later.  **Not everyone works 'odd hours'. :P**

Peter huffs in amusement and smiles at the screen, reluctantly accepting that for the time being at least he's awake.  **& UR punishing me for that?**

**:P No. Just wanted to say good morning before I leave for work.**

That's sweet, but Peter would much rather still be asleep. Though ideally, he'd rather Miggs was kissing him good morning before he got out of bed. He considers saying something to that effect, but he's still too groggy to get his words in order. Instead he falls back on trusty old innuendo.  **Morning. U sleep ok? ;)**

There's a pause, and Peter idly wonders if Miggs is just busy getting ready or if he choked on his cereal. He reaches down to scratch at a spot of dried jizz that he apparently missed last night, letting his brain slowly percolate over what the hell it means for whatever he and Miggs are. He doesn't have much experience with this sort of thing to work with, and that makes him a bit uneasy. Especially with his relationship with Miggs on the line the way it is. If he fucks this up, he could lose Miggs, and that's an unacceptable outcome.

The phone vibrates before he can pursue that unhappy line of thought much further.  **Better than I have in a while. Thanks. :)**

**Ditto. ;)**

Another moment, then Miggs sends,  **OK gotta go. Delayed responses till 1pm. Lunch break.**

Peter rolls onto his back and grins as he types,  **O I C, wake me & then leave me hanging.**

When the phone vibrates again, the text is accompanied by a picture of Miggs, sticking his tongue out and looking amused. He's wearing a tie, and suddenly Peter's imagination is filling up with all the things he could do to the man with just that tie.  **Better?** the text reads.

**Prefer less clothing. ;)** he replies, smirking a little.

In the pause that comes after, he imagines Miggs sputtering and blushing and trying not to laugh. Then a moment later Miggs responds,  **:P Going now. See you later.**

Feeling his mouth stretching into an affectionate smile, Peter reads over the words again and absently thinks back on Miggs' original text about eating cold cereal and wishing Peter was there. If Peter  _ were _ there, he would've definitely made sure the man had something more substantial in his stomach to start the day.

An idea hits him suddenly and his eyebrows rise as he thinks it over. It's doable. He'd have to get up soon instead of going back to sleep, but it's doable. And Peter's pretty much awake for the day anyway at this point.

Grinning, Peter sends a quick  **OK. :)** and then settles back against his pillow to think over his plan of action.

 

* * *

 

Peter considers texting his dad to ask for advice, but thinks better of it for a number of reasons. One is that he's not quite ready to tell his parents about this thing with Miggs, it's still too new and unfamiliar. Another is that his dad would probably just say he wooed Peter's mom through shared interests and sexual prowess. Which, while helpful, isn't quite what he's looking for right now.

Instead, Peter turns to the part of his brain that's always on, always analysing, always aware of his surroundings, and thinks back to the previous morning. Miggs didn't have much in his fridge, so there's not much for Peter to work with there. The freezer, though, had been full of frozen meals. So if Peter wants an idea of what sort of food Miggs likes, he needs to remember what kinds of meals the man buys for himself.

Closing his eyes, Peter thinks back, trying to remember what was in the freezer. What he remembers, unfortunately, is just a variety of generic frozen meals. Generic pasta, generic meat and veggies, generic pizza. Nothing to really indicate any preferences.

It suddenly hits him that he's seen Miggs eat several times now and has no idea if the man has any kind of favorite foods. He likes meat, if the amount of bacon during their first breakfast is any indication, and he'd been eating a burger when they exchanged selfies at lunch. But he also doesn't mind vegetarian dishes, going by the second helping of curry he had when they were at Peter's parents' house.

Everything gels together to paint a picture of a man who really isn't picky about his food and will eat pretty much anything that's set in front of him.

Blowing out a deep breath, Peter frowns, a little disappointed. That makes things easier, certainly, but he'd kind of been hoping for an opportunity to impress Miggs with something the man specifically liked.

Putting it out of his mind for the moment, he extends his arms over his head and gives a long, leisurely, full-body stretch. He can feel a groan pushing its way out from his lungs as he holds the position for a moment. Then he slowly relaxes, letting out a gusty sigh.

With his blood flowing a bit more enthusiastically now, the lethargy of sleep is steadily leaving him. Shoving aside the blanket, he climbs out of bed and does a few more stretches before starting his morning exercises. He's a little sweaty afterward, but decides a shower can wait. Now that his body's on board with the whole being awake thing, it's started making demands of him. At the top of that list, rather insistently, is breakfast.

That makes sense, since he skipped dinner the night before. He was just too keyed-up when he got home to even think about eating, and then after texting with Miggs he was too tired to do more than let the afterglow usher him into a restful sleep.

He's definitely paying for it now, though. His stomach is  _ not _ a happy camper. With a sigh, he glances at his glasses and the case he keeps his hearing aids in. He usually keeps the windows in his apartment covered, so he shouldn't need the glasses. The hearing aids, though...

Grimacing, he leaves them and heads toward the kitchen. His ears are still a bit tender from having them in for almost two days straight with only a few short hours break before being woken up to take Miggs home the previous night. He knows from previous experience that he'll definitely regret it later if he just shoves them in right now and wears them all day.

Not that he really  _ needs _ them just for puttering around his apartment. His phone is always set to vibrate, and there isn't really anything in his living space that requires aural cues. Still, he's come to find ambient noise pleasant, so the distinct lack of it prods at his awareness like a dull toothache.

He determinedly puts it out of his mind with a sigh and starts rummaging around in his freezer. He pulls out a few containers of frozen fruit and ice cubes at random and sets them on the counter, then plugs in his blender. The frozen ingredients are unceremoniously dumped in and the blender turned on before Peter turns to the fridge for something a bit more substantial. He has plenty of eggs, but he's not really interested in an omelette or effort. He grabs the carton anyway and sets it on the counter, then checks on the blender. Stopping it reveals that it's mostly done, or completely done if he doesn't mind chunks.

Peter's stomach makes the decision for him, and he considers his breakfast smoothie for a moment. Then he decides to skip getting a glass and just removes the lid, lifts the jar from the base, and drinks directly from the blender.

With the smoothie holding off the worst of his hunger pangs, he gets out a small pot and sets the eggs on the stove to boil. He steadily drinks his smoothie while he waits, cleaning up what little mess there is in-between mouthfuls. When there's nothing else to clean up and the eggs are still cooking, he starts looking through his fridge and freezer to see what he has.

Something simple would probably be best, he doesn't want to overwhelm Miggs. As much as he'd  _ like _ to show off a little, that can probably wait for later.

It takes him a minute to notice the dopey grin on his face, at the thought that there  _ will _ be a later. A later when he and Miggs know each other even better and he's cooked for the man often enough that he can make something special for him.

He has to set the blender jar on the counter and cover his face with his hands while he wheezes out a laugh. It's suddenly hitting him that  _ this is a thing he's doing _ . He really, truly, deeply cares about someone, someone who makes his heart race and his ears blush and his libido sit up and take notice. And he is now...attempting a relationship with him. Like a normal person with normal human emotions.

Excitement and panic both wrestle for his attention, and he just stands there. Leaning against the counter in his kitchen with his hands over his face and his breath quivering out of him in uneven laughs, he stands there and lets it wash over him.

After about a minute or so, he breathes in deeply and slowly sighs it out, letting his hands fall to his sides. When he looks at the stove, the eggs are boiling.

A simple curry sounds good for lunch, he decides, then gets back to fixing his breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, looks like skipping Sunday was a good idea after all because literally a few hours after I posted last week's chapter there was a family emergency that's been sucking away all my time and energy and I'm still dealing with that. In fact, I may even have to skip NEXT Sunday. Why? Because I will be at a funeral out of town on Saturday and I honestly have no idea when I'll be getting home. -_-
> 
> Sorry, everyone. This just hit completely out of the blue and has thrown me for a loop. :(  
> I promise I'll have next Wednesday's chapter up, but Sunday is dependent on me getting home at a reasonable time and then having any amount of energy left over. And I have no guarantee on either of those things happening.


	11. Lunch Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter visits Miggs at work and finally meets "Punch-face" in person!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your understanding while I've been going through an extra rough patch. I think everything's okay now, so I'm going to try to do a Sunday update this week. No promises, but I'm going to try!
> 
> And I'm gonna plug some things real quick, if you'll indulge me. First of all, the lovely and talented Grayce went back and made some illustrations for chapters [five](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6729724/chapters/16364105) and [six](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6729724/chapters/16364333)! They are gorgeous and I highly recommend you go take a look if you haven't already seen them.
> 
> Second, I know I've neglected to mention it the past couple chapters, but my [joint patreon](https://www.patreon.com/grayceanddoc?ty=h) is still going and the $7+ patrons continue to be a chapter ahead of the updates here! "Chapter 12: Lunch Date" is already up there, and if you want join them in reading a little early we're always happy to have new patrons. :)

Finding where Miggs works isn't anything resembling a challenge. Peter already knows he works for Seattle Public University and teaches Engineering. A simple search of the SPU website actually provides a map of the campus and the exact location of his office. It also provides a stock photo of Miggs, and Peter finds himself smiling at the perturbed expression on the man's face. He looks like someone told him to smile and he refused out of spite. He feels a ridiculous amount of fondness toward Miggs for that. Also a little smug that he has so many pictures of Miggs smiling when the school couldn't even get one.

Lunch doesn't take very long to put together and once noon rolls around he has it packed up in tupperware and an insulated bag. He's freshly showered, hair slicked back the way he prefers even though he knows the helmet is going to mess it up soon, and dressed in a grey button-up and dark jeans. Once his glasses and hearing aids are in place, he grabs his leather jacket and the insulated bag and shrugs them both on as he heads down to the building's parking garage. He starts whistling along the way, feeling almost effervescent.

Soon enough he's sitting astride his motorcycle and fastening his helmet in place. He checks the bag to make sure it's secure, strap diagonal across his chest, then heads out.

It's nice out, the sun warm on the back of his neck, and he wonders if Miggs would be up for eating outside. He hums a little at the thought, smiling again. If anyone from work ever catches him while he's thinking about Miggs it'll no doubt ruin his hardass reputation, because he knows he looks absolutely ridiculous.

He makes good time on the way to the college, and soon he's parked in the visitor's lot nearest the STEM building, securing his bike and deciding on his course of action. He could just stand around outside Miggs' office and hope he goes there at the beginning of his lunch break. If he doesn't, though, Peter's kind of screwed. He could also wander the halls and hope he either spots the man or hears him and recognizes his voice well enough at this point to identify him.

Well, no use standing outside dithering about it. If there's one thing Peter's good at, it's improvising with little to no intel.

Once inside the building, Peter spots an older woman dressed in the kind of business casual way that screams teacher. He pulls out his notepad and starts writing as he approaches her.

She startles when he taps her shoulder, turning and looking up in confusion as she asks, "Yes?"

Giving his best bored deliveryman smile, he holds up the note:  **_Looking for Ortega, please._ **

Brow furrowing, the woman frowns disapprovingly. "What do you want with him?"

Peter shifts the bag so that it falls against his hip, then scribbles another line on the paper.  **_Lunch delivery._ **

His jacket is still zipped up, so there's no way for her to see that he's not wearing any kind of uniform shirt. Belatedly, he realizes there's probably no need for the subterfuge, but habits are hard to break.

Her expression clears as she makes the exact assumption he was going for: that he's delivering take-out from a local restaurant. "Oh yes. He'll probably be on the third floor around now. I believe his schedule is up on his office door. I can't remember the room number, but it's near the stairs." She smirks and adds dryly, "If you can't find him, just listen for  _ shouting _ ."

Peter raises an eyebrow at that, but smiles and nods his thanks. He finds the stairs around the corner and climbs them quickly, unzipping his jacket as he goes. Since he already knows the room number for Miggs' office, it shouldn't be difficult to find.

All his concerns about finding Miggs turn out to be unnecessary, because he can see the man as soon as he reaches the third floor. He's facing a smug-looking older man, body language speaking volumes of anger and discomfort. His voice is raised, but Peter wouldn't really call it shouting.

"—none of your business  _ anyway _ !"

The older man rolls his eyes and smirks in a way that suddenly has Peter recognizing him as "Punch-face," because of the strong urge he has to punch the smug off the man's face. "I'm just  _ saying _ ,  _ Or _ -tega, it's kind of pathetic. Who are you even trying to impress?"

"I'm not—I—You f-fucking  _ ass _ hole!" Miggs snaps in frustration. "I'm not trying to  _ impress _ you! I'm just tired of you insinuating that he doesn't exist!"

Eyebrows lifting as he walks closer, Peter wonders what Punch-face has been saying to Miggs to get him so flustered. Not that it's difficult to fluster Miggs, but it sounds like this is an ongoing issue that's come to a head just now. He circles the two until he's in Miggs' line of sight, just a little behind Punch-face, and smiles and waves while Miggs' eyes widen in surprise.

"Peter?"

Punch-face whirls around to face him, mouth going slack, and Peter gives him a blandly polite smile. Then he turns his attention back to Miggs, letting his expression become noticeably warmer.

Miggs looks like he can't believe what he's seeing but is nonetheless pleased by this turn of events. A bright, shy smile curves his lips as he asks, "Wh-What are you doing here?"

Stepping closer, ignoring Punch-face altogether, Peter reaches for the bag at his hip and unzips the top. Tilting it so Miggs can see the containers inside, he shrugs and smiles hopefully, suddenly feeling a little shy himself.

Miggs' cheeks darken as he stares at Peter in disbelief. "You brought me lunch?" he whispers.

Ducking his head, Peter rubs the back of his neck and gives another, smaller shrug. His eyebrows draw together as he lets his nervousness leak into his expression. He wants to do this right with Miggs, he wants to be honest with him. So even though he desperately wants to, he can't let himself hide behind his stock expressions.

A few strands of hair fall over his forehead and Peter suddenly realizes his hair is probably a mess. Grimacing, he quickly reaches up and finger-combs it back into place, then stops as he hears a quiet chuckle from Miggs. Looking up, he raises an eyebrow at the man.

"You're acting like I've never seen you with messy hair," Miggs says fondly, smiling. The gap in his front teeth is just barely visible and Peter feels himself melting a little inside as he smiles back.

"A _ hem _ ," Punch-face butts in impatiently, and Miggs' expression goes flat and irritated. Peter glances back at him and frowns, annoyed that the man felt the need to ruin the moment.

" _ Richards, _ " Miggs says meaningfully, though the meaning is lost on Peter. He smirks at the man and gestures to Peter. "This is Peter Orso. My  _ boyfriend _ ." His voice drops into a bored tone as he mumbles, "Peter, this is Richards."

Peter pulls out his notepad and flips back a few pages to point to "punch-face" from yesterday as he holds it up for Miggs to see. Miggs snorts in amusement and covers his mouth with one hand, then says, "Yeah him."

Plastering on the bland, polite smile again, Peter holds out a hand to the man. Punch-face stares at it for a moment, then reluctantly shakes Peter's hand. "I was beginning to think Ortega made you up in a sad attempt to convince people he wasn't pathetically incapable of getting anyone to tolerate his presence."

Peter spreads his hands as if to say "Here I am," then turns back to Miggs and leans in to kiss his cheek while sliding an arm around the man's waist. Startled at the display of affection, Miggs turns his head to look at Peter, cheeks going dark again. Peter smirks at him a little, then pointedly darts his eyes toward Punch-face and tilts his head in invitation. It takes a moment, but Miggs' eyes light up in understanding and he grins in response. His entire body curves in toward Peter's and his hands come up to rest on Peter's shoulders. Everything in his movements is open and receptive to Peter, and Peter wastes no time in bringing a hand to Miggs' cheek and aligning their lips to kiss him gently.

A soft groan rumbles up through Miggs' throat and his hands slide around to play with the shorter hair on the back of Peter's head. Peter can't help the grin that overtakes his mouth and soon he's grinning too much to keep kissing Miggs, making the man laugh a little and lean his forehead against Peter's. Peter manages to drop a few more brief kisses to Miggs' cheeks, his nose, his mouth, and Miggs laughs through it, leaning into him.

"Ah- _ HEM _ !"

Peter stubbornly kisses Miggs on the mouth once more before letting Miggs straighten and turn a glare toward Punch-face. "Did you  _ want _ something, Richards?" Miggs asks impatiently.

"You're in the middle of the  _ hallway _ , Or-tega." Punch-face's nose and mouth are both scrunched in disgust and Peter bites back a laugh at his expression.

"You're right, I should be getting to lunch," Miggs sneers, tucking a hand into Peter's elbow and tugging a little. "With my  _ boyfriend _ . It's probably getting cold."

Then Punch-face scoffs and says, "Does he even understand English? He hasn't said a word this entire time!"

Miggs whirls back around furiously, mouth opening to respond, but Peter steps between them and holds up a hand. Calmly turning to Punch-face with a bored smile, he signs,  _ Listen, Dicks, I don't need to speak it to understand English better than you understand ASL. _ He grins smugly and jerks his head toward Miggs as he continues,  _ Now I'm going to go have lunch with that hottie and kiss him as much as I want just because I can. And you can stand there and disapprove all you want but there's nothing you can do about it. _

Giving the man a sloppy salute, Peter turns back to Miggs, wrapping an arm around his waist and letting his fingers curl over the top of his ass as he leads him away. Behind them, he can hear Punch-face sputtering in confusion. But he doesn't care, because Miggs is leaning into his side as they walk, biting his lip with barely-contained glee, and Peter's going to kiss him all over his adorable face just as soon as they've found a place to sit and eat.


	12. Lunch Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lunch date they've been longing for since they started exchanging selfies!  
> Warning: Sexual content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some heavy makeouts, so head down to the end notes if you want to know where to skip.
> 
> If you're interested in the dish mentioned in this chapter, I got the recipe from [here](http://www.vegrecipesofindia.com/aloo-mushroom-masala-recipe/).

When Peter taps Miggs' shoulder to get his attention and then points from the bag holding their lunch to one of the few windows, it takes a moment before Miggs gets it. Then his eyebrows lift in understanding and he nods. "Yeah! Yeah sure, we can eat outside. I think there's a table on the other side of the building."

So they make their way to the other side of the building. A few people give them odd looks, Peter notices, but no one says anything. He hopes he's not causing Miggs any trouble by being there, but figures Miggs would say something if he was. At the very least, he probably wouldn't be so eager about walking along partially tucked under Peter's arm.

There is a table outside, partially hidden by some small, decorative trees. The building itself is casting a shadow over it, so the area is pleasantly cool. It gives off a feeling of seclusion, and Peter's mind wanders to thoughts of what he could potentially get away with there with Miggs.

Once they're seated next to each other at the metal and plastic table, Peter starts pulling out containers and arranging them to his satisfaction. When he pulls the lid off a dish and sets it in front of Miggs, the man closes his eyes and leans in to breathe deeply, smiling at the scent.

Miggs opens his eyes and glances over at Peter, his expression fond. "This smells kind of like that stuff we had at your parents' place."

Holding up a hand, palm down, Peter wiggles it a little.

"Similar but not quite the same?" Miggs guesses.

Peter grins at him and nods. He could get used to this, how easy it is to talk with Miggs. Maybe it's just because of how much texting back and forth they do, but so far during all of their in-person interactions Miggs has expected Peter to be an active participant in the conversation. Unlike most people, who assume his silence to be a lack of anything to say, Miggs pays attention when Peter communicates.

"What? What's that look for?"

Miggs' voice cuts through Peter's musings and he realizes he's been staring at the man. Still grinning, Peter shakes his head sheepishly and busies himself with pulling out napkins and utensils.

"No what?" Miggs persists, tugging on Peter's shoulder playfully.

Heaving an exaggerated sigh, Peter tilts his head back to look at Miggs, then rolls his eyes. He shifts so he can pull his notepad from his back pocket, then slaps it down on the table and writes,  **_I like you._ **

Miggs stares at the note for a long moment, cheeks going dark again, before he ducks his head and glances up at Peter through his eyelashes. "Oh," he says in a quiet voice, biting his lower lip as he smiles. "I like you too."

Peter's grin widens and he goes back to digging the rest of the supplies from the bag. Absently, he wonders if this counts as a date. Lunch date, maybe? That's a thing, he's pretty sure. He's also pretty sure he's getting things completely out of order: introducing Miggs to his parents, then sexting, and now finally dating. As long as Miggs doesn't object, though, it seems to be working out.

"It smells good," Miggs says as he accepts a fork from Peter, then starts poking at his food curiously. "What is it?"

When Peter obligingly writes down the name of the dish, Miggs stares at it for a bit. Then he stares at Peter. "...Okay, pretend I don't speak..." he hesitates for a minute, visibly struggling to decide on his next word, before finally settling on, " _ that _ . What is it?"

Peter laughs and underneath  **_Aloo mushroom masala & naan._ ** he writes,  **_Potato & shroom curry. With bread._ **

"Ohhh." Miggs scoops up a bite, looks it over, then puts it in his mouth. His eyebrows shoot up and he looks happy while he chews. "It's good!" He laughs a little and gives Peter an apologetic smile. "I shouldn't be surprised, after that miracle you pulled off in my kitchen...yesterday?" His expression turns surprised. "Has it really only been a day?"

It has, Peter realizes. It feels like longer. He nods slowly, then writes,  **_Tell me about UR day?_ **

A pleased blush darkens Miggs' cheeks and he straightens in surprise. "Oh! You... You really want to hear about it?"

Nodding eagerly, Peter rests his cheek on one hand and his elbow on the table, watching the man intently.

Miggs ducks his head and smiles shyly. "Okay," he says quietly. Then he shifts on the bench and leans against the table, getting more comfortable, before he launches into a rant about a student who thought texting all through his lecture was naturally the best way to learn the material and then had the gall to later ask a question Miggs had already answered twice. In between bites of lunch and sounds of enjoyment, Miggs details his day and Peter drinks it in. He probably won't remember much of it, but really he's just happy listening to Miggs talk.

Miggs stops at one point, looking uncertain as he says, "Sorry, I've just been chattering away. I'm sure you're tired of hearing me bitch about work."

Smiling, Peter shakes his head and takes Miggs' hand in his, giving it a little squeeze. With his free hand, he writes,  **_I like UR voice._ **

" _ Oh _ . I... Really?"

Peter nods, then leans in to nuzzle at his cheek and kiss the hinge of his jaw. Briefly tightening his grip on Peter's hand, Miggs shivers and tilts his head to give Peter better access. Not one to turn down such a clear invitation, Peter starts trailing kisses down Miggs' neck.

"Mm, feels good," Miggs murmurs, eyes falling closed as he all but melts against Peter's side.

Peter chuckles and gently scrapes his teeth over a thick tendon in Miggs' throat, making the man gasp and arch his back a little. Lunch entirely forgotten, Peter shifts on the bench so his body is almost completely facing Miggs. Then he reaches down to cup Miggs' hip, Miggs making an encouraging sound of approval. It doesn't take much to tug Miggs into sitting astride Peter's lap, lips parted invitingly while he wraps his arms around the back of Peter's neck. A few soft kisses to Miggs' mouth, tongue exploring the gap in his teeth and teeth tugging his bottom lip, and Peter returns his attention to the man's throat.

Breathy whimpers escape Miggs as Peter licks and sucks at his neck, arms wrapped around his waist and holding Miggs close. Peter's fingers dig into Miggs' back while he sucks just above the man's collar and Miggs gasps and moans, hips jolting forward. Nibbling up Miggs' neck, Peter hums approvingly and drops a hand to Miggs' ass. He can feel the hard line of Miggs' cock pressing against his stomach and desperately wants to lay him out on the table and suck him until Miggs comes down his throat. His own cock twitches at the thought and Miggs grinds down against his lap.

"Oh god, don't make me come in my pants, I still have two classes to teach!" Miggs gasps.

Peter moans quietly and grabs Miggs' hips so he can thrust up against him. Panting, Miggs curls over Peter's head, breath stirring his hair. Peter latches onto Miggs' neck again, teeth digging in as he sucks hard.

Trembling, Miggs whimpers, "Peterrr...  _ Dios _ . Fuck. Ohhh..."

Pulling back just a bit, despite the soft sound of protest from Miggs, Peter surveys his handiwork with half-lidded eyes. There's a dark bruise on Miggs' throat, partially hidden by his shirt collar but still very obviously visible. Feeling a surge of possessiveness, Peter reaches up to run his fingers over the mark while his other hand tightens on Miggs' hip.

"Oh fuck, did you give me a  _ hickie _ ?" Miggs groans, not actually sounding upset about it.

Peter gives an affirmative hum, then drops his hand to reach behind Miggs and write on his notepad,  **_Told U I would._ ** Leaning back enough to hold up the pad for Miggs to see, Peter smirks at him.

Miggs' eyes dart over the note and his brow furrows in confusion. He opens his mouth to speak, but then he freezes. Eyes widening and eyebrows shooting up, understanding floods his face along with a dark blush. "Oh," he says in a strangled voice. "That's right, you did."

Laughing quietly, Peter drops the notepad between them and reaches up with both hands to frame Miggs' face so he can guide the man down to kiss his mouth. They relax into a languid slide of lips and tongues against each other, before Miggs stirs and absently asks, "Mm, what time is it?"

Peter glances at his watch, and holds it up for him to see. Miggs looks at it with hazy eyes for a moment then gasps and jolts upright. "Shit!"

Peter hums questioningly and Miggs groans, shifting on his lap and trying to climb off. "I'm going to be  _ late _ ! I have class in...three minutes!"

Peter looks at his watch again, just in time to see it tick up a minute. He holds up two fingers and Miggs makes a strangled sound.

Chuckling, Peter grabs at Miggs' thighs and grips them tightly. Miggs protests, but Peter just shifts on the bench until he can stand up. Giving a surprised yelp, Miggs clings to him, one heel moving to hook under Peter's ass. Smiling patiently, Peter raises an eyebrow and waits for Miggs to realize he can just drop his legs to stand up now.

It takes maybe half a minute for Miggs to lift his head from where he has his face pressed to Peter's hair. Peter adjusts his grip to Miggs' ass so the man can get down easier and Miggs stares down at him, startled.

"Oh. You...weren't exaggerating when you said you carried me." He sounds a little dazed and one hand drops down from Peter's shoulder to the tensed muscle of his bicep.

Amused, Peter flexes a little and he can feel Miggs' cock twitch through his pants where he's pressed against Peter's front. 

"Um, that, uh—I mean—" Miggs stammers, before Peter chuckles and kisses him.

Miggs groans and mumbles against Peter's mouth, "Quit distracting me, I'm probably late by now."

Grinning, Peter jostles him and gives Miggs a pointed look, trying to convey that Miggs is welcome to get down at any time. "What are you...oh." Sheepishly, Miggs loosens his grip on Peter and slides down the front of his body until he can get his feet under him. Then once he's standing, Peter tightens his grip on Miggs' ass, fingers digging into soft flesh, and pulls him back in for a deep kiss. Miggs squeaks in surprise, then sighs contentedly and melts against him.

"I  _ really _ need to go," Miggs mutters, barely lifting his mouth from Peter's to speak. "Teach. Need to... Mm..."

Peter reluctantly pulls away, chuckling when Miggs leans in to follow. He reaches up to remove Miggs' hands from his shoulders and brings them to his lips, gently kissing his fingers. When he looks up, Miggs' shiny, swollen mouth is parted and he's staring at Peter.

"You uh... You're sure you've never done this before?" Miggs asks quietly, then bites his lip and tilts his head down, glancing back up at Peter shyly. "Because you're doing pretty good so far."

Grinning, Peter lets got of Miggs' hands to give an exaggerated fist-pump and Miggs laughs. Peter thinks he could get used to hearing that.

"I  _ do _ need to get back to work," Miggs sighs, and Peter nods.

Together, they get the remains of lunch packed up and head back in. Along the way, Miggs tentatively reaches out for Peter's hand and Peter eagerly tangles their fingers together. Miggs ducks his head away, grinning, and Peter tugs him closer so he can kiss the side of his head.

They come to a stop in front of an open classroom and Peter can hear the students inside discussing the appropriate length of time to wait for a professor when they're late. Miggs grimaces and moves to pull away from him, but Peter suddenly smirks and tightens his grip on Miggs' hand. Pulling him in close, Peter wraps his arms around the man and dips him at the waist. Miggs' eyes widen in surprise, then flutter closed as Peter kisses him. A soft sigh escapes Miggs and he wraps his arms around Peter's neck, tilting his head and opening his mouth when Peter's tongue slides over his lips.

Even as focused as he is on the man in his arms and how responsive Miggs is to every touch, Peter still notices the change in chatter from the classroom. First a laughed, "What the  _ fuck _ , man?" and then more as the students inside slowly notice them.

" _ Wow _ , what—Holy shit, is that  _ Ortega _ ?"

"No way!"

"It totally is! Holy shit!"

"I  _ told _ you he was gay, dude."

"Who's that with him?"

Slowly, Peter straightens, bringing Miggs with him, and one brave student shouts, "Yeah,  _ get _ some, Professor O!"

Miggs opens his eyes, only to immediately roll them. "Now I'm never going to get them to settle down," he grumbles, though he's smiling. "Jerk."

Winking, Peter takes a step back and grins. Miggs' clothes are completely rumpled, his hair's a mess, and there are several hickies of varying hues along his neck. Peter's expression must be smug enough to give away what he's seeing, because Miggs makes a face at him. Peter just laughs.

" _ Jerk _ ," Miggs repeats, unable to stop smiling. Then when Peter starts to turn away he quickly adds, "Peter, wait!"

Turning back, Peter cocks his head questioningly and raises an eyebrow.

Nervous, Miggs fidgets with his hands and turns his gaze toward the floor. "Um, I just..." He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, visibly steeling himself for something, then looks up at Peter and blurts out, "Would you like to come over to my place later?" Fidgeting with his hands, he stares down at them and quickly adds, "I mean, um, I have... I have the first season of  _ Space Adventure _ on DVD. We could...maybe...watch a few episodes? M-Maybe?"

A flutter of excitement curls in Peter's belly and he nods, smiling. Then he thinks of something and gets out his notepad to write,  **_What time U done here?_ **

Looking back up hopefully, Miggs says, "About seven, seven-thirty. Why?"

**_I can pick U up._ **

"I... But... My car?" Miggs protests uncertainly, though he looks like he wants to say yes.

Peter's smile tilts into something more flirtatious and he writes,  **_Can drive U in tomorrow._ **

Eyes wide, Miggs stares at his words, then glances at his face as if making sure he's serious. "Oh..." he whispers, then, "Yes! I... Y-Yes, that... That sounds good." He bites at his lip even as his mouth stretches into a pleased smile. "I'll see you tonight, then."

Peter leans in once more to cup Miggs' cheek and give him a quick kiss. Then he steps away and starts walking backward towards the stairs, lifting a hand in farewell.

Finally turning away, he can hear Miggs snapping at his class to open their books and turn to the next chapter, no he does  _ not _ want to tell them about his mystery man because it's none of their business. Peter laughs quietly, feeling a warm glow inside at the thought of coming back later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some general kissing throughout, but it gets hot and heavy a bit after _Peter nods, then leans in to nuzzle at his cheek and kiss the hinge of his jaw._
> 
> You can probably come back around _"Oh fuck, did you give me a hickie?"_
> 
> Also, the joke behind the _**Told U I would.**_ / "That's right, you did." exchange is that Peter did in fact tell Miggs he would give him a hickie, while they were sexting in chapter nine. His exact words being **Suck a bruise so if punchface or asshole ex see U they know UR taken.**
> 
>  
> 
> Also! If you guessed, from the end of this chapter, that they're gonna do the do in a few chapters, you would be correct! Do not worry, I will give AMPLE warning beforehand and it's looking like all the actual sex will be in a chapter of its own. Also, sex is not the end-game for this story, so there will be plenty more of these guys being lovestruck dorks after that. There is, believe it or not, something of a plot lurking at the edges. We are getting closer to it with each subsequent chapter. :3


	13. Dr. Doom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets ready for his date!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again no Sunday update, because I had a writing commission that was making my life difficult. So I'm just going to say: from now on Wednesdays are a definite yes, Sundays are a potential bonus.
> 
> Although! The patrons on [my joint patreon](https://www.patreon.com/grayceanddoc?ty=h) _did_ get a Sunday bonus of sorts. I accidentally wrote an angsty one-shot for a pairing even more obscure than this one! And because they get my writes a week in advance, I won't be posting it on Ao3 until this upcoming Sunday. If you want in on all this week-early action, you can go become a patron and make a monthly pledge! Here's a breakdown of the tiers:  
>  $2: SFW art by Grayce and one-shots and shorts by both of us.  
> $7: Early chapters for the main stories Grayce and I are currently working on (right now it's this one for me and [Hold Your Peace](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6260002) for Grayce).  
> $14: All previous tier content, as well as week-early updates on any additional stories we're working on ([One Little Thing](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7346230) for Grayce, and I'm currently working on a buffer for something new I haven't started posting yet). You also get a say in what new projects we start and a couple other goodies.  
> $15: NSFW tier! Everything else, plus Grayce's NSFW draws! :D ("Smut tax" is in place just so patrons who don't want NSFW but want everything else can get access without having to worry about getting an eyeful.)
> 
> Okay, that's my little spiel over. XD Enjoy the chapter!

It isn't until Peter's back in the parking lot, sitting astride his motorcycle and getting ready to turn it on, that something occurs to him. He stops and stares off into the middle distance, frowning as he leans his arms against the handlebars. He can't be  _ certain _ that Miggs invited him over intending to have sex, but the way he agreed to Peter implying he would be spending the night would suggest that the possibility had at least crossed his mind. So for all intents and purposes, it's a safe bet he and Miggs are going to have sex tonight.

And if he wants to do things right... Peter sighs and pulls out his phone, quickly scrolling through his short list of contacts before landing on "Dr. Doom" and texting,  **U free?**

He drums his fingers on the center of the handlebars as he waits for an answer. He isn't looking forward to this, but it needs to be done.

After about a minute, he gets a reply:  **Today?**

**ASAP.**

**Give me 1hr.**

**OK.** he sends, then slides his phone back into his pocket. That taken care of, Peter starts up his bike and heads home to put away the leftovers from lunch.

Most of a half hour passes faster than he was expecting and before long it's time to head out. The nerves don't hit him until he's sitting in the OWCA Medical waiting room with about five minutes to spare. He has just enough time to remember the lecture he got the  _ last _ time he came in with tender ears before the doctor is opening the door to the examination room.

Giving him a distinctly unimpressed look, Dr. Chaudhri greets him with a flat, "Agent Panda."

At average height and build, with dark, greying hair pulled back in a loose braid, the doctor isn't especially intimidating. Intimidation is handled solely by her face and her attitude, and she's cowed agents far tougher than Peter. There are rumors that she previously worked as a medic inside warzones, and Peter has absolutely no difficulty believing it.

He stands, offering up a sheepish smile, and she lifts a sharp eyebrow. "You cleared your last post-mission checkup and you're not scheduled to come in again for another week. What did you do?"

Peter rolls his eyes and makes a face, then follows her into the exam room.  _ I didn't do anything, _ he protests.

"Mmhm. Up on the bed and out with them."

Peter hops up onto the exam bed, paper crinkling under his ass, then signs,  _ I don't need _ —

"You're the one who wanted to come in, so you're getting a checkup," Dr. Chaudhri interrupts him flatly. "So take out your hearing aids and tell me why you needed to see me 'asap'."

Grimacing, Peter reluctantly reaches up to take out his hearing aids, tucking them safely away in his shirt pocket. Then he slowly unbuttons his shirt and pulls it off, folding it neatly beside him on the bed.

Making sure to approach him from the front so he can see her, the doctor begins examining him. He can tell from the way her lips are pressed together after looking in his ears that he's in for another lecture. When she finishes up, writing everything down on a clipboard, she frowns at him and raises an eyebrow again.

_ Your ears are red and irritated _ , she signs, expression disapproving.  _ Did you sleep with your hearing aids in again? _

_ I can explain! _

Dr. Chaudhri throws her hands up in exasperation.  _ You are supposed to take them out for at least 4 to 6 hours every 24! I have been very clear about that! _

_ I was watching over a friend! _ Peter protests.  _ I needed to be able to hear him! _

_ You could have left them out after, _ she scolds.  _ Your ears need a rest. And yet you come in here with them in and your ears red. _

_ That's not even why I'm here! _ Peter tells her, frustrated. When she just crosses her arms over her chest and quirks her eyebrows expectantly, he hesitates. Looking down, he rubs the back of his neck and sighs. Looking back up, he slowly signs,  _ I need an S-T-D test. _

Reading the doctor's lips, he's pretty sure she blurted out, "What the fuck, Peter?!" She clenches her hands into fists beside her shoulders, then quickly signs,  _ What did you do? _

Peter shakes his head and holds up his hands.  _ No no no! _

_ You  _ **_know_ ** _ better than to not use protection! _

_ I'm seeing someone! _

Dr. Chaudhri hesitates long enough that he can continue explaining.  _ I'm starting a relationship with someone and I want to make sure I'm not putting him at risk. I've been using protection, but I want to be sure! _

Mouth pursing thoughtfully, Dr. Chaudhri signs,  _ That is a new one for you. _

Shrugging with badly feigned nonchalance, Peter nods.  _ How fast can you do it? _ he asks.

_ Within the hour if you want, _ she replies, raising an eyebrow at him.  _ What is the rush? _

Peter can feel a blush taking over his traitorous face and he avoids her eyes as he signs,  _ I have a date tonight. _

_ And you are so sure you are going to get lucky? _

Smiling wryly, Peter slowly nods. He knows better than to assume, but he's fairly certain that Miggs is just as eager as he is to continue what they started during lunch. As if summoned by Peter's thoughts of him, Peter's phone vibrates in his pocket and when he takes it out it's a text from Miggs.  **Pizza OK for dinner?** it asks.

Once again, Peter can feel his face doing things without his permission. The silly smile he always seems to get when texting Miggs stretches across his mouth as he types,  **Sounds good. :)**

When he tucks away his phone and looks up again, Dr. Chaudhri has an odd look on her face. She notices him looking at her and rolls her eyes, then throws her hands up in exasperation.  _ Who am I to stand in the way of horny agents? _ she signs, turning away briefly to rummage in a cabinet.  _ Results in an hour so you can have your date. You know the routine. _

She takes a blood sample and hands him an empty sample cup, pushing him toward the small attached bathroom with an admonishing,  _ Only urine! _

Biting back a laugh, Peter does as instructed and soon he's buttoning his shirt back up and putting in his hearing aids under Dr. Chaudhri's baleful glare. "You  _ will _ be taking those out tonight." It's phrased like a question, but her tone leaves no doubt that it's a command.

Peter rolls his eyes and gives a lazy salute, then hops off the bed. He hesitates a moment, before slowly admitting,  _ He knows. _ Just in case there's any confusion, he gestures vaguely toward one ear.

Eyes going wide for a moment, the doctor quickly recovers. "You told him?" she asks. At his nods, she replies, "Well. I guess you  _ are _ serious about this."

When he gives an even more emphatic nod, she snorts and gives him a light shove toward the door. "Go on, loverboy. I have samples to test. I'll email you the results." He starts to sign something but she cuts him off with, " _ Yes _ to your personal email. I have more sense than to send it through OWCA. Especially when you may want to print it off to show your beau."

With relief lightening his heart, Peter signs a sincere,  _ Thank you! _ To which Dr. Chaudhri just scoffs, rolling her eyes again and shooing him out of her exam room.

 

* * *

 

Just as promised, Dr. Chaudhri gets his test results to him exactly one hour and sixteen minutes later. Not that Peter set an alarm on his phone and then sat hitting refresh on his personal email account for about five minutes before cranking up the volume and waiting impatiently for the little ding signalling new emails. He also looked through a few recipe blogs and watched a video of a panda cub learning how to roll.

When the email comes in, it's just as he suspected: tests show no sign of any kind of sexually transmitted infections. Because bad as Peter is about keeping to his doctor's rules about his hearing aids, he actually  _ is _ very careful when it comes to sex. So there's that concern taken care of. He sets the email to print and his clunky old portable printer hums to life, immediately beeping in complaint at a lack of paper. With an exasperated groan, he feeds it a few sheets.

Now to pack an overnight bag. He's pretty sure Miggs hasn't have a chance to go grocery shopping since Peter was last at his place. Since he'd rather not put his culinary skills to the test again so early in the morning, he takes a look at the contents of his fridge and pantry. He finally settles on mixing up a simple breakfast casserole and packing it up in spill-proof tupperware. A casserole dish gets packed as well because he doesn't remember seeing any appropriate dishes last time he cooked in Miggs' kitchen.

With that all taken care of, he grabs a small duffle bag from the closet and heads to his bedroom, snatching up the warm printout of his test results on the way. The paper gets folded a few times and stuffed into a side pocket. Then he packs a change of clothes, as well as some condoms and lube. With Miggs' recent dry spell, he'd rather not risk the man not having any supplies. He also grabs the small kit of travel toiletries he keeps in the bathroom, not eager to wait till he gets back home before brushing his teeth tomorrow. ...Again.

By the time he's done, he figures it's late enough that he can head over without seeming  _ too _ eager. He grabs the food from the fridge and tosses it and the casserole dish in a plastic grocery bag before adding them to the duffle. Then he sets out, duffle bag slung over one shoulder.

When he gets to his bike, he stows the bag away and starts off toward the SPU campus amid an unfamiliar fluttering of nerves.


	14. Early

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A much-anticipated repeat performance from Punch-face!  
> (Miggs is never going to get his students to quit gossiping about his mystery man at this rate.)

When he gets back to campus, nothing much has changed except the arrangement and number of vehicles in the parking lot. He locks up his bike and starts up the path toward the building, feeling his pulse pick up as he gets closer. There's a nervous anticipation bubbling in his veins that he usually only feels before missions. He's never felt like this with a  _ person  _ before.

No amount of reminding himself that Miggs likes him, that they're friends and they trust each other, seems enough to make that thrum of nerves dissipate. Besides, he actually kind of enjoys it. It's new and different and reminds him of why he's taking a chance with Miggs. Because he makes Peter feel like this, and surely that has to mean something.

(He wants, desperately, for it to mean something. Just this once he wants his emotions to fucking  _ work _ .)

This time he goes straight up to the third floor and heads for the classroom he dropped Miggs off at. The door is still closed and he checks his phone for the time. He's early, it's only 6:47pm. Thinking back, he might have been speeding a little on the way here.

Peeking through the narrow window in the door, he can see Miggs standing in front of a whiteboard, pointing to something on it with a dry erase marker. He can kind of read Miggs' lips, though the angle is terrible and all he can really get is the gist. It looks like he's reminding his students of an upcoming test.

Speaking of students, Peter glances to the other side and can see a few rows of them. It looks like they've started packing up. So he's there early, but not  _ too _ early.

Then one of them looks up from putting her things in her bag and sees him. Peter stomps down on the urge to duck away and pretend he isn't there, instead giving her an unconcerned smile, as if he's  _ supposed  _ to be peeking through the window like a creeper. Expression uncertain, she slowly turns toward Miggs, and Peter can see her lips forming what looks like the words "Professor Ortega".

Wincing, Peter glances back toward Miggs just in time to catch the confused furrowing of his eyebrows. Then Miggs turns toward the door and his eyes widen in surprise. Peter smiles sheepishly and waves a little. Looking dazed, Miggs lifts a hand and waves back, mouth twitching upward slowly.

All of a sudden Peter's nerves both spike and...somehow  _ soften _ . As if actually seeing Miggs has caused the warm glow in his chest to provide a protective barrier against his other emotions. That Miggs looks happy to see him certainly helps.

"So you're who's been distracting  _ Or _ -tega from important work meetings," comes a voice from behind him, sounding sure of itself and vaguely hostile.

Peter turns to find Punch-face frowning at him, and wonders how the hell he had managed to get distracted enough that the man so easily snuck up on him. Obviously the answer is Miggs. The memory of Miggs writhing on his lap and of the picture of him immediately post-orgasm, and the current reality of Miggs smiling shyly from inside his classroom, the last rays of sunlight shining through the window to play over his thick curls. Peter is definitely distracted by those and thoughts of where the night will lead.

The man looks and sounds geared up for some sort of pissing contest, but Peter's not in the mood to humor him.  _ He said you didn't have much important to say, _ he signs boredly, not even bothering to get out his notepad.

"How much is he paying you?" Punch-face sneers, his expression eagerly giving away that he thinks he's delivered some sort of verbal killing blow.

Peter just raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. Then he smirks and signs,  _ Sorry, I'm not for sale. You'll have to look elsewhere. _

Face twisting in frustration, Punch-face snaps, "Not surprised you can't talk. I knew there had to be  _ something  _ wrong with anyone willing to put up with  _ that _ piece of work."

_ Jealous? _ Peter asks smugly.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Richards?" Miggs suddenly grumbles from behind him, and Peter quickly clamps down on his surprise to keep it from showing on his face. He really needs to stop getting distracted, or at least get a handle on it before OWCA sends him on another mission. "Did you even bother going to class today, or did you con a student into teaching  _ for _ you? Again."

Peter takes great pleasure in turning his back on Punch-face in favor of looking at Miggs, who is glaring at the other man. Expression softening as he turns his attention to Peter, Miggs murmurs, "You're early."

With a helpless shrug, Peter rubs the back of his neck and shoves his other hand in his jacket pocket while he smiles sheepishly. He had  _ tried _ not to seem overeager. But...well, he is actually incredibly eager to see Miggs again.

The gap in Miggs' front teeth slowly becomes visible as a grin tugs at Miggs' lips. "I don't  _ mind _ ," he says.

He looks and sounds delighted, and Peter can't help reaching out to brush a curl back from his face and gently tucking it behind his ear. Miggs' cheeks darken and his eyes go wide, and Peter ends up slowly tracing the shell of his ear with his index finger.

"You're staring," Miggs whispers, and Peter just nods, smiling affectionately.

"Are you planning to ignore everything else  _ every _ time he shows up,  _ Or _ -tega?" Punch-face demands irritably.

"Until he stops being more interesting than  _ you _ , Richards," Miggs snaps back, glancing over Peter's shoulder at the man. "So yes, yes I  _ do _ plan to pay more attention to  _ Peter _ when he's here.  _ Every _ time he's here."

Punch-face snorts and says in a sneering voice, "I guess you  _ do _ want to make sure you get your money's worth."

" _ Fuck _ you, Richards!" Miggs starts forward with clenched fists, but Peter quickly reaches out and catches him around the waist.

Reeling him in, Peter's hand curls around the curve of Miggs' ass as he pulls the man in tight against his side. Peter's other hand moves to cup Miggs' cheek before he leans in to kiss him. Miggs stays tense in his grip for just a moment before he relaxes into the kiss, hands coming up to grip Peter's biceps. From somewhere far away and unimportant, Punch-face is expressing his disgust at their display.

Peter hums against Miggs' lips before breaking the kiss. He waits until Miggs' eyes open hazily, then gives him an amused smile and tilts his head toward what he's pretty sure is the direction of the stairs. It takes Miggs a moment to get it, but his eyebrows lift in understanding when he does.

"Oh. Uh, no. I have to get my stuff first. Um...five minutes?"

Pursing his lips and pretending to consider it, Peter heaves an exaggerated sigh and reluctantly nods. Then he winks to show he's playing and presses a quick kiss to Miggs' cheek.

A wide grin gracing his lips, Miggs squeezes Peter's arms and slowly steps away. "Five minutes," he repeats, and Peter nods his acceptance. Then Miggs disappears back into his now-empty classroom.

Barely sparing a glance at the fuming Punch-face, Peter absently pulls out his phone and checks it. He's looking through his calendar to see if there's anything in his schedule he's forgotten this week when Punch-face speaks again.

"So if he's not  _ paying _ you, what's the appeal?"

Glancing up from his phone, Peter raises a disbelieving eyebrow at the man. As if pointing out the obvious, he gestures to the open classroom door, where Miggs is clearly visible stuffing papers into a bag on his desk. The light of the sinking sun plays across his face and curls, and there's a faint smile curling the man's lips. Peter spreads his hands and twists his mouth so that his expression is as obvious a  _ Duh _ as he can manage.

Punch-face sneers, "Yes, I've  _ met _ him."

Before he can say anything else, Miggs hurries from the room with a dark backpack slung over one shoulder, locking the door behind him. When he turns around, Peter laughs and taps his watch, then holds up three fingers. Miggs rolls his eyes. "Fuck you, I  _ know _ that wasn't five minutes. Come on, I'm hungry!"

Reaching out, Peter takes Miggs' hand in his, then lets the man pull him down the hallway toward the stairs. Neither of them say another word to Punch-face, though he shouts an indignant "Hey!" after them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you maaay have noticed that this chapter is a little bit on the... _short_ side. There's a reason for that. It's because the next couple chapters are significantly longer and the only way to keep them from being _too_ long was to have a short chapter. ^_^ Trust me, this is something I spent a considerable amount of time trying to work out.
> 
> Aside from that, I also have a bit of an offer! Well, two offers, actually.  
>  **First:** I'm about to hit one of the big milestones in this fic (they do the sex). In between that milestone and the next milestone (lol, no spoilers!) I recently realized I don't actually have much planned. So my offer is, if there's anything in particular you'd like to see happen in this, feel free to suggest it! You can leave a comment here or [send me an Ask on tumblr](http://doctorvtumbls.tumblr.com/ask). :D  
>  **Second:** I finally finished some writing commissions that were kicking my ass (there was research and tears, it was not pretty). Now I kind of want to challenge myself to make sure I can still do simple, quick stuff. So I am taking one-shot fic prompts!  
>  I have a prompt table [right here](https://docs.google.com/document/d/10X5T-4SVloxJQF7FCLsMnabiZmr_oQdXPOZ72xUWowM/edit?usp=sharing), but any prompts are welcome. Any prompts, any pairings. And I am notorious for making weird pairings work (I once wrote Tony the Tiger/Optimus Prime on a dare), so don't feel you have to stick to just pairings you've seen me do before. Like with the suggestions above, prompts can go in the comments here or can be Asked for on my tumblr.
> 
> Anyway, that's the news. See you next week! :3


	15. Big Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter visits Miggs' apartment again, discussions and makeouts are had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexual content warning: there's makeouts. If you're cool with smooches and a little physical intimacy, this chapter shouldn't be an issue. If you're not okay with it, uh...leave a comment and I'll try to figure out where exactly you can skip. It's kinda all mixed up in here, though, so it'd be a matter of skipping single sentences. At most a paragraph here and there.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! :D

They make relatively good time to Miggs' apartment, which Peter hadn't realized before was so close to campus. It's not right next door, but it's close enough that Miggs' morning commute probably isn't much of a hassle.

The feeling of Miggs snuggled up behind him almost makes him want to see if he can find a long way to take there, but he figures there will be time for that later. Soon enough, Miggs is directing him to his usual parking spot and Peter slows to a stop. Miggs hesitates before slowly climbing off and Peter quickly gets his bag out and locks up his bike.

Turning to aim an encouraging smile at Miggs, Peter finds himself momentarily dumbfounded when the man's nervous expression brightens hopefully.

"Um, you...probably know the way," Miggs says bashfully, ducking his head as his cheeks darken. His brow suddenly furrows and he frowns a little. "Wait, how  _ did _ you know which apartment was mine?"

Peter wiggles his eyebrows, smirking, and slides an arm around Miggs' waist. He tucks a few fingers into Miggs' back pocket as he leads the man toward the elevator and by the time they get there he has Miggs' wallet in hand. Moving from Miggs' side to lean against the wall next to the closed metal door, Peter grins and holds out the wallet.

Miggs freezes in the act of pressing the call button for the elevator, eyes wide as he stares at his wallet in Peter's hand. He quickly reaches back to feel his now empty back pocket and gasps, "You—!"

Gentling his grin, Peter opens the wallet to tap Miggs' driver's license through its protective plastic sleeve. Then he closes it again and steps close to kiss him and slide the wallet back into place. When he steps back he smiles apologetically and signs,  _ Sorry. _

"I'm...going to assume that means 'Sorry, you were passed out and I needed your address'," Miggs says slowly, eyeing him with suspicion as he prods the call button.

Peter nods, it's close enough and what he meant anyway. There's a dull  _ thunk _ as the elevator arrives and a  _ ding _ before the door slides open. As they both climb in, Peter wonders if he's accidentally misstepped. Then Miggs presses the button for his floor and leans against Peter's side with a contented sigh. Smiling, Peter wraps an arm around him and kisses the side of Miggs' head.

"So," Miggs murmurs, turning his head to tuck his nose against Peter's neck. "Misspent youth or part of your troubleshooting skill-set? The pickpocketing."

Peter just laughs and pulls Miggs in closer so he can kiss him again. Taking that as an invitation, Miggs turns in his arms to face him and deepen the kiss. Peter settles his hands on Miggs' hips and pulls the man with him when he leans back against a wall of the elevator, eagerly encouraging Miggs' efforts.

Distantly, he thinks he feels the elevator pause and hears a  _ ding _ , then a surprised gasp. Peter does not particularly care, though, because he has his arms full of Miggs and his mouth full of Miggs' tongue. Anything else is going to have to work a  _ lot _ harder to get his interest.

Finally the elevator stops again and Miggs pulls away dazedly to glance at the floor number. "Oh, um." He smiles sheepishly, stepping away and running a hand over his hair. "My floor."

Peter grins and motions for Miggs to lead the way. When he does, Miggs keeps glancing back at him as if he somehow expects Peter to disappear or make a break for it, smiling shyly every time he sees Peter notice him looking. It makes Peter's heart ache a little, wondering what kind of assholes Miggs has dealt with in the past that he's so concerned about being ditched. He grabs at Miggs' hand and gives it a squeeze as he moves to keep pace with the man.

The surprised smile Miggs gives him is incandescent and Peter wants to press him up against the nearest wall to kiss it, find out if it tastes as bright as it looks.

All that stops him is them arriving at Miggs' door. Even then he nearly crowds the man against it, but just as he's thinking it Miggs' eyes widen and he glances up at Peter with an uncertain expression.

"Um...wait here?" he asks, letting go of Peter's hand, only to reach up to pet at Peter's arms. "Please? Just a minute, I promise."

Bewildered, Peter nods and gets a relieved smile in response. Miggs fumbles with his keys for a minute before getting the door open and hurrying inside, quickly closing it behind him.

Staring at the door, Peter frowns in confusion, wondering what Miggs is up to. Last minute cleaning? Did he somehow manage to trash the place since Peter was last there? He can hear a few thumps inside and some cursing. Is Miggs somehow worried Peter will see his discarded underwear on the floor and judge him?

When Miggs finally opens the door again, looking relieved that Peter is still there, but also nervous for some reason, Peter smiles bemusedly. "Okay! Y-You can...come in? Please?"

Peter follows Miggs as he tries to step aside, giving his lips a quick peck before grinning. Biting his lower lip as it curves into a smile, Miggs ducks his head and peeks up at Peter through his lashes.

With Miggs to look at, it take Peter a moment to notice the ambient light. Or rather, the lack of it. He frowns a little as he glances away from Miggs to take in the bulk of his apartment. Hesitating, he slowly reaches up to tilt his glasses down his nose to look without their protective tinting.

There  _ is _ light, but it's softer than he's used to, muted. When he turns to Miggs, the man is still smiling nervously and Peter lifts an eyebrow in question.

"Dimmer-switch," Miggs says, shrugging as if he's said something mildly embarrassing. "I wasn't sure if it still worked, I hardly ever use it, but...the lights have a dimmer-switch. So, I thought...?" He trails off and gives Peter a helpless smile, curling in on himself.

Peter hooks his foot around the edge of the door to shove it closed, then takes his glasses off completely. Feeling his ears burning with a blush, he cups Miggs' face with both hands and kisses him, soft and gentle and grateful. He can't remember the last time anyone besides his parents did something like this for him. It's simple, barely any effort at all, but Miggs made a place for Peter in his home and he feels a little like his ribcage is too small to contain everything inside of it. Like he's about to explode and kissing Miggs is a release valve on the pressure building behind his breastbone.

He  _ wants _ , deep and burning like molten steel. He wants to press full-length against Miggs and touch him all over, drag his fingers over every inch of him, kiss him until he forgets how to speak, until Miggs is panting and begging and screaming his name...

Miggs pulls away just long enough to whisper in a halfway bewildered voice, "It's not a big d—" before Peter shakes his head and shuts him up with another kiss.

It  _ is _ a big deal. It's a big deal to him.

Finally Peter releases Miggs' mouth to rest his forehead against Miggs', breathing each other's breath for a moment. His thumbs brush gently over Miggs' cheekbones and Peter lifts his head to place a soft, lingering kiss between his eyebrows. Miggs opens his eyes to stare up at him, a little cross-eyed from the proximity and looking almost awed.

"Please tell me we're having sex later," he breathes, then clamps a hand over his mouth, expression horrified.

Peter turns his head to the side just in time for a deep, quaking laugh to escape him, nearly doubling him over. Wheezing a little at the force of it, Peter grins and drags Miggs into his arms, lifting him off his feet with the power of his hug.

Gasping in surprise, Miggs flails a little then grabs at Peter's shoulders and breathlessly laughs out, "Oh my god, what—Peter!"

Peter nuzzles at Miggs' neck before pressing a wet kiss just under his jaw, then sets him back on his feet. A silly grin on his face, Miggs reaches up to touch his neck where Peter kissed him. "Um... Dinner. I should...um, yeah."

While Miggs scurries to preheat the oven and dig a pizza out of his freezer, Peter sneaks into the kitchen with him. He sets his duffle on a counter to rummage through it for a moment before pulling out the breakfast things. The tupperware goes on a mostly-bare fridge shelf, keeping a lonely jar of pickle juice and single pickle company. It isn't until he sets the square casserole dish out of the way on a counter that Miggs notices he's up to anything.

Looking up from arranging the pizza on a cookie sheet that has probably never seen a cookie in its life, Miggs frowns and asks, "What's that?"

Peter cocks his head with feigned confusion, as if he doesn't know perfectly well that Miggs means the dish he still has his hand on.

"What are you doing?"

Lifting his eyebrows innocently, Peter lets go of the dish to sign an exaggerated,  _ What? _

Miggs looks like he's trying to fight off a laugh as he turns away from the oven. "No I  _ know _ that's not mine, and I saw you getting in the fridge earlier. What are you—" As he moves toward the refrigerator, Peter catches him around the waist and spins him around. The laugh finally escapes Miggs and he persistently squirms in Peter's grip, getting loose enough to open the fridge door.

The sight of the tupperware sitting on the shelf makes Miggs stop, laughter dying off as he stares at it. "What...?" he asks quietly.

A little worried at the reaction, Peter pulls out his notepad and writes,  **_Breakfast?_ ** before turning the pad for Miggs to read.

Glancing over his shoulder at Peter, hand still on the open door, Miggs murmurs, "You're...really planning to stay the night. Aren't you?"

Concerned that he somehow misunderstood something, Peter quickly scribbles,  **_If that's OK? I assumed._ **

Miggs rubs a hand over his face, mouth twitching oddly and expression twisting so much that Peter wants nothing more than to pull the man into his arms and kiss it away. He gives a slightly damp chuckle before looking up, relief shining bright across his face. "Oh god... _ Peter _ . Yes, please. Fuck, you don't— Yes!" He chuckles again and rakes a hand back through his hair. "I was so worried you might just...want to fuck and run. Or change your mind and just... _ leave _ . I don't—"

He's shaking his head a little when Peter steps in behind him and wraps an arm around Miggs' waist. His other hand he sets over Miggs' on the fridge door and guides it shut before wrapping that arm around him too. Burying his nose deep in the back of Miggs' curls, Peter inhales deeply, taking in the scent of his shampoo (something mild but citrusy) and the hint of the day's sweat underneath it. He only loosens his hold on Miggs enough to rub his hands down his body, palms skimming the curve of his ass, fingers dragging across his hips, then up over his belly, his ribs, thumb glancing across a nipple as they pass over his chest. Grip firm but gentle, he makes a few passes like this while pressing light kisses to the back of Miggs' neck, nosing at the back of one ear before kissing just below it.

Miggs inhales sharply in surprise, then lets the breath out in a shaky sigh, going almost limp in Peter's arms. Every pass of Peter's hands, his body pushes into them, so eager and responsive that Peter almost forgets that he started this with a goal in mind.

Resting his chin on Miggs's shoulder, Peter snatches his notepad off the counter to awkwardly scribble,  **_Want to do this. With U. I want U. Cldn't stop thinking abt U today._ **

Miggs fumbles to take the pad when Peter shoves it at him. With his hands free, Peter crosses his arms across Miggs' chest and grips his shoulders, hugging the man against his front while he nuzzles against Miggs’ neck and jaw. He's not used to not having to be careful of his glasses while doing this, and he likes the freedom of not having to worry about smudges and smears.

" _ Oh _ ," Miggs whispers, head falling back against Peter's shoulder. "You...really? You thought about me all day?"

Peter nods against the side of Miggs' head, then remembers he actually has proof of this. With a kiss to Miggs' cheek and a squeeze of his arms, Peter reluctantly lets go of him and looks around for his dufflebag. It's in the exact same place on the counter that he left it, and he pokes at the side pockets before he finds the right one. Taking a deep breath, he turns back to Miggs and slowly holds out the folded paper with his test results on it.

Confused, Miggs takes the paper from him and unfolds it, eyes scanning over it quickly before stopping suddenly, glancing back up at Peter, then darting back to the paper and moving over it slower. "This i—" Miggs' voice squeaks a little and he frowns before clearing his throat and continuing. "This is dated today."

Peter just nods.

"You...went and got tested? Today. After lunch?"

Peter nods again, then reaches past Miggs to pick up his notepad from the counter it had been set on.  **_Want U to be safe._ ** he writes, then holds it up.

Tossing the printout on the counter, Miggs launches himself at Peter, kissing his lips fervently. Peter just lets his notepad fall to the floor while he focuses on how good it feels to have Miggs in his arms.

They  _ do _ eventually remember to put the pizza in the oven.


	16. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snuggling, nerdiness, and dancing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains sexual content! If that's not something you want to read, skip over to the End Notes for a guide to where to stop reading.
> 
> Also, as far as what they're dancing to, I was imagining [this song](https://youtu.be/uYJHmAyoTqY). However, you are welcome to imagine it's something else if you want. :)

Later, sitting on Miggs' couch with Miggs curled up against his side, Peter idly runs his fingers through the man's hair as they watch an episode of  _ Space Adventure _ . Peter's empty plate sits on the small coffee table between them and the TV, while Miggs continues to nibble on a slice of pizza. There had been a brief moment of panic earlier when Miggs realized the pizza he'd picked out had meat on it. Peter had handily solved the problem by picking the bits of sausage off one half and depositing them on the other half, finishing with a grin and a "ta-da!" gesture.

Miggs had been so visibly relieved that Peter wasn't upset, it had gotten him wondering about the man's dating history again. Thinking about it, Peter turns his head to press a gentle kiss to Miggs' temple.

Miggs gives an absent hum of approval, eyes glued to the screen, and sets his empty plate aside on an arm of the couch. He wipes his hands off on his pants before tentatively reaching for Peter's free hand. Smiling, Peter laces their fingers together on top of his thigh.

_ "I'm afraid I must respectfully decline," _ Dr. Fresno politely tells the buxom alien scientist who's been flirting with him.  _ "I'm a married man." _

_ "What is...'married'?" _ she asks, a wrinkle of confusion appearing above her nose prosthetic.

_ "Well..." _ Dr. Fresno says slowly, gathering his thoughts.  _ "It's when two people who love each other promise to be together. As a team. Partners and lovers." _

_ "Ah! Like a  _ katuthla _ ," _ she replies in sudden understanding.

As the two go on to discuss the finer details of this similarity in their cultures, Miggs sighs contentedly. "I was always... _ so _ grateful that he said 'two  _ people _ ' there," he murmurs. "He could've just as easily said a man and a woman, but he didn't. And he just said he was married, not that he had a  _ wife _ ."

Peter scribbles a quick note and holds it up for Miggs:  **_Heard he adlibbed it, script said man/woman._ **

"Yeah, I heard he fought to leave it in this way," Miggs agrees. "Supposedly he was contractually obligated to follow the script, but every take was so bad they eventually had to give up and use this one."

Peter chuckles and watches as on screen, Dr. Fresno and the alien start dancing to a cheery tune, having found another cultural similarity. Glancing down, he sees a sort of wistful longing on Miggs' face as he watches the pair spin around the lab. He lets go of Miggs' hand to snatch up his notepad from beside him on the couch and writes  **_U dance?_ ** before holding it in front of Miggs.

Startled, Miggs twitches against his side and tilts his head up to look at Peter. "Ye—I mean, no, nothing like  _ that _ ."

Peter smiles and wiggles his eyebrows in invitation. When Miggs just stares at him in confusion, he rolls his eyes and nudges the man so he can stand up. Once on his feet, he turns and holds out a hand to Miggs, not bothering to hide his eagerness.

When Miggs just stares at him again, Peter curls his fingers inward a few times. Finally, Miggs slowly reaches out to place a hand in Peter's, gasping when Peter pulls him to his feet. Miggs ends up falling against Peter's chest, his free hand landing on Peter's shoulder to steady himself.

"Peter, what—?" he starts, cutting off when Peter leads him away from the couch with their joined hands extended and his other hand on Miggs' hip. "You can't be  _ serious _ ."

Peter nods, grinning, and experimentally spins them a few steps. Miggs stumbles a little but quickly finds his balance, hand tightening on Peter's shoulder.

Cheeks dark, Miggs glances up from their feet to meet Peter's eyes through his lashes. "It... You... The music's done," he whispers.

It's true, the moment of cultural exchange between Dr. Fresno and his would-be alien suitor has ended, and with it the music they were dancing to. Peter hadn't really noticed, too focused on Miggs. And besides that, he originally learned to dance without music.

Peter lets go of Miggs' hip to dig out his phone and pull up the music app on it, scrolling through it until he finds something suitable. He waits for it to start then quirks an eyebrow at Miggs, tilting his head in question. Miggs bites his lip, indecision clear on his face, then slowly nods his head. With a grin, Peter turns up the volume and tosses his phone onto the couch before returning his hand to Miggs' hip.

"Why...?" Miggs asks quietly, then yelps in surprise when Peter pulls him flush against his front.

Peter shrugs in answer and kisses Miggs' cheek, then starts a gentle stationary swaying motion. After a moment, Miggs gets comfortable enough to rest his cheek on Peter's other shoulder, letting out a sigh that brushes against Peter's neck. Gradually, their movements increase, Miggs easily following Peter's lead as he gently whirls them around the living room.

Turning his head a little, Peter nuzzles against the hair curling around Miggs' ear. A soft kiss to the shell of his ear has Miggs shivering against him, and Peter slides his hand from Miggs' hip to the small of his back to press him closer.

"Peter..." Miggs murmurs aimlessly, and Peter's hand moves lower to cup the curve of his ass.

Miggs raises his head to look at him and Peter takes the opportunity to lean in and kiss him. Their movements return to an unhurried sway and Peter guides Miggs' other hand to his shoulder before wrapping both arms around him. Miggs sighs into the kiss, fingers skimming over the back of Peter's neck to play with the short hairs there. Backing Miggs up against a wall, Peter moves his hands to Miggs' hips and pulls them in tight against his own. He can feel the beginnings of an erection through Miggs' pants and groans eagerly.

Miggs moans in response, back arching to press his hips closer. "Peter please," he whispers against Peter's lips, though Peter would bet that if he asked for clarification Miggs wouldn't be able to provide it.

Even so, Peter gives an affirmative hum and breaks the kiss to trail his lips down along Miggs' jaw. When Miggs tilts his head to give him better access, Peter decides to make good on his desire to kiss every one of the man's freckles. He doesn't stick to just kissing for very long, though. Spurred on by every gasp and sigh and whimper to spill from Miggs' lips, he's soon applying tongue and teeth to the hot skin beneath his mouth. He latches onto a dark bruise just below Miggs' collar from earlier at lunch while digging his thumbs into Miggs' iliac crests, fingers curled tight over the sharp bone of his hips.

Miggs jolts against him, crying out his name. A shudder passes through the man's body and he starts restlessly circling his hips against Peter, who drags his tongue up the length of Miggs' neck. Gently nipping at Miggs' jaw just to get a gasp from him, Peter swoops in to kiss him again. Arms wrapping around Peter's neck, Miggs presses closer to him, sucking on Peter's tongue as soon as it ventures past his lips. Peter lets out an amused huff through his nose and curls his tongue a little, just enough to escape Miggs' grasp.

Briefly pulling away, Peter waits till a furrow of confused irritation appears between Miggs' eyebrows and he opens his eyes to see why the kissing stopped. Peter smiles apologetically and points to him, then curls his thumb and index finger into an "OK" gesture. At Miggs' confused look, Peter lifts his eyebrows inquisitively, then wiggles a finger between himself and Miggs, points down and circles his finger, then repeats the "OK" gesture.

"Are...you asking if I'm  _ okay _ ?" Miggs asks in disbelief. At Peter's nod his expression shifts from confused to incredulous. "Yes! Oh my god, Peter,  _ yes _ . Do you have any idea how long it's been since I got  _ laid _ ?" He pauses and blushes, adding sheepishly, "Well...with the other person physically present, I mean."

Peter smirks a little at the mention of their text activities last night and runs his hands up and down Miggs' sides before settling them back on his hips.

Miggs glances to the side, looking embarrassed. "I haven't really... _ been _ with anyone since...since Aaron."

Eyes going wide at the quiet admission, Peter reaches up to place a hand against Miggs' cheek and gently turns his head forward again. Reluctantly Miggs does so, and at Peter's questioning look he nods.

"I think...subconsciously, I was...comparing everyone I met to  _ you _ . And then, after a while...it wasn't just subconscious." His voice is almost too soft to hear and Peter watches his mouth closely. It takes a moment for Miggs' words to make sense, but when they do Peter feels surprise flood through him to settle warm and melting in his chest. Apparently Peter hadn't been the only one dealing with unexpected feelings.

Sliding one hand around to the small of Miggs' back, Peter leans in to kiss him again, slow and deep. Miggs inhales sharply in surprise, then moans, body arching into Peter. This time when Peter breaks the kiss Miggs follows, swollen lips parted and shiny, and Peter obligingly kisses him again, though briefer.

Hands light on Miggs' hips, Peter kneels down in front of him, eager to indulge his desire to give Miggs' cock the attention it deserves. Miggs makes an adorably confused noise above him, then gasps when Peter moves one hand to the front of his pants. Not shy about brushing against the firm bulge of Miggs' erection, Peter makes short work of the button and zip. With a pleased hum, he opens the man's fly and leans in to mouth at the front of his underwear.

"Peter!" Miggs gasps, voice trailing off into a drawn-out moan. One of his hands clutches at Peter's shoulder while the other goes to his own mouth. Glancing up, Peter rests his cheek against Miggs' hip and watches him biting a knuckle in an attempt to stifle the sounds escaping him. It isn't very effective, but it's still more so than Peter wants. Reaching up, he catches Miggs' elbow and starts tugging his arm down until he can grab the man's wrist.

"Peter, what—?" Miggs asks, staring down at him with wide-eyed confusion.

Peter smirks a little as he points at his ear, then Miggs, then gives a thumbs-up. He  _ likes _ listening to the sounds Miggs makes, Peter doesn't want him stifling himself. Mouth forming an "O," Miggs' eyes widen. Satisfied that Miggs understands, Peter continues watching him as he brushes his palm against the long, hard line of Miggs' cock through his underwear.

Miggs chokes and gasps, then tries to bring his hand to his mouth again, seemingly out of habit. Peter tightens his grip on the man's wrist while also giving Miggs' cock a firmer stroke. The dual sensations startle a moan from Miggs and his hips jerk forward, chasing the pleasure Peter's hand offers.

"Are...Would...W-Would you hold me down?" Miggs whispers, shame settling heavy on his face and edging out the arousal.

Desire pulses along Peter's veins at the request and he quickly stands back up, crowding Miggs against the wall until there's barely any space between them. Miggs stares up at him uncertainly, eyes bright. (Green, his mom had said, and Peter briefly wonders what that looks like.)

Adjusting his grip on Miggs' hand, he laces their fingers together, then grabs Miggs' other hand and does the same. Peter thumps both of Miggs' hands against the wall to either side of Miggs' head and presses them firmly against it. Miggs' eyes dart to the side to watch as he pushes against Peter's grip, testing it. A shudder works its way up Miggs' body when Peter doesn't budge. Panting, Miggs strains forward with his head tilted and mouth parted in clear invitation. Peter meets him halfway and sucks at his bottom lip for a moment before covering Miggs' mouth with his own.

Soon there's no space at all between them, Miggs' back to the wall and Peter plastered against his front from chest to groin. Peter slows their kisses until he's pulling away with one more gentle peck to Miggs' lips. When Miggs opens his eyes and frowns at him, Peter tilts his head in the direction of the door to Miggs' bedroom. The leer on his face gets the point across and Miggs' fingers tighten minutely against his.

"Buh-Bedroom?" he interprets, and Peter nods. " _ God _ yes."

That's all the confirmation Peter needs before he's letting go of Miggs' hands in favor of scooping him into his arms bridal style, one arm under his knees and the other around his back. Miggs yelps in surprise, hugging Peter tightly around the neck. Once he realizes what the abrupt change in position is about, though, he stares at Peter in wonderment.

"Oh my god," Miggs murmurs, hands clutching at the back of Peter's shirt. "Peter seriously, if we don't have sex now I think I'll actually  _ die _ ."

Laughing, Peter carries the man to the bedroom door and tries nudging it open with his foot. It's shut tight, though, so he gently jostles Miggs. It doesn't even take a moment before Miggs is eagerly reaching for the doorknob and shoving it open. The near-frantic cast of his movements makes Peter laugh again and he shifts his arms to bring Miggs' top half close enough to kiss him again before stepping into the waiting bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to avoid everything, including kissing but not the dancing, you can stop at _"Why...?" Miggs asks quietly, then yelps in surprise when Peter pulls him flush against his front._  
>  If you're cool with some makeouts but want to avoid the dicks, stop at _Miggs sighs into the kiss, fingers skimming over the back of Peter's neck to play with the short hairs there._  
>  For either one, you're done with this chapter. Hope you enjoyed the snuggling and nerdiness. :D
> 
>  **NON-SEXY SUMMARY OF THE REST OF THE CHAPTER:** Miggs and Peter dance for a while, mostly just that back-and-forth swaying that's basically a hug with some movement. That leads to makeouts against a wall, during which Peter basically asks Miggs' permission to continue what they're doing ( _Peter smiles apologetically and points to him, then curls his thumb and index finger into an "OK" gesture._ ) and Miggs enthusiastically consents. At some point Miggs admits that he hasn't "been" with anyone since he broke up with Aaron-the-shitty-ex. ( _"I think...subconsciously, I was...comparing everyone I met to YOU. And then, after a while...it wasn't just subconscious." His voice is almost too soft to hear and Peter watches his mouth closely. It takes a moment for Miggs' words to make sense, but when they do Peter feels surprise flood through him to settle warm and melting in his chest. Apparently Peter hadn't been the only one dealing with unexpected feelings._ )  
> Miggs attempts to be quiet but Peter communicates that he likes listening to him, and Miggs (nervous and ashamed) requests that Peter hold him down. A request that Peter enthusiastically complies with and Miggs soon appreciates his enthusiasm. The chapter ends with Peter picking Miggs up bridal style and carrying him into the bedroom.
> 
> Those of you not interested in seeing these guys do the do, brace yourself 'cause the next chapter is double-sized and straight-up porn. And again, I promise the sex isn't the end-game in this story. After this we're going to continue building the relationship and plot. ;)


	17. Bedroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bow-chicka-bow-bow... (Bang-a-rang!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Sexual Content
> 
> See End Notes for details if you wish to avoid reading about them shabang-a-langin'.

Miggs moans into the kiss and wraps his arms around Peter's neck again, not letting go even as Peter leans over the bed and tries to set him down. Peter ends up just removing his arm from under Miggs' knees and wrapping it around the man's torso, laying on top of him with their legs hanging off the edge of the bed.

Sliding his hands down to Miggs' ass, he gently squeezes the firm handfuls before slipping them down further to encourage Miggs to wrap his legs around Peter's waist. Miggs doesn't need much encouragement and Peter soon has the man clinging to him and moving restlessly. A firm downward thrust of Peter's hips against Miggs' has Miggs throwing his head back to gasp, his entire spine arching him upward against Peter's body. The feeling of Miggs' hard cock against his own reminds Peter of his earlier plans and he lifts up just enough to shove himself and Miggs further up the bed.

Miggs' grip loosens a bit and Peter takes advantage of it by pulling away from him. Before Miggs has time to do more than start to protest, Peter has moved down his body to tug on Miggs' pants. They're barely mid-thigh on Miggs before Peter swoops down to mouth at Miggs' dick through his underwear. Miggs cries out, hips jolting up, and Peter moves with him, hands clutching Miggs' ass to hold him in place.

"Oh god, Peter, you-y-you—" Miggs cuts himself off with a groan before continuing. "You don't have to— Just because Aaron didn't—  _ Ohhh _ ..."

Peter lowers Miggs' ass back to the bed and scoots back until he can stand up at the foot of the bed. With Miggs intently watching his every move, Peter quickly unbuttons his shirt and pulls off it and his undershirt. Smirking at the lust clear on Miggs' face, he slows down a little in taking off his pants. It's not quite a striptease, it's not slow enough for that, but neither does Peter rush. Pants pooling at his feet, Peter lightly palms his dick through his boxers before sliding them down as well.

Miggs bites his lip as he watches Peter give his cock a few strokes, his own hand reaching down to rub at the bulge in his underwear. Grinning, Peter climbs back onto the bed, crawling up Miggs' body to kiss him. Miggs eagerly lifts his arms to drape them over Peter's shoulders and pull him down. Peter ends up sprawled on top of him, chuckling into the kiss and trailing his hands down Miggs' sides. Tangling their legs together, Miggs hums contentedly and thrusts up against Peter.

They stay like that for a while, just kissing and moving against each other, before Peter pushes himself up and starts kissing his way down Miggs' body. Miggs reaches for him to try to pull him back up but Peter just huffs a laugh and scrapes his teeth over Miggs' skin to distract him. Groaning at the stimulation, Miggs lets his hands fall to his sides and clutches at the bedsheets.

As Peter gets level with Miggs' groin again, he hooks his fingers over the waistband of his underwear and starts tugging it down. Once he gets them down to Miggs' ankles, Peter taps the man's knee and moves to the side so Miggs can get them the rest of the way off.

"Really, you don't have to," Miggs protests, even as he's eagerly kicking his underwear off. "I mean I know you seemed sort of...insulted on my behalf that Aaron didn't but I was okay with it."

Moving to hover over Miggs' abdomen, Peter raises an eyebrow questioningly while he points up at Miggs, makes an "OK" gesture, and then points down at where the man's flushed cock is slowly dribbling precome on his stomach.

"Well of course I'm  _ okay _ with you sucking my dick, I'm just saying you shouldn't feel obligated toooooh—Oh god, Peter!" Miggs groans as Peter reaches down to wrap a hand around Miggs' cock and gives it a few gentle strokes.

Feeling a little smug at the man's reaction, Peter lets go of Miggs dick so that he can nudge his legs further apart and settle himself between them. Finally on eye-level with Miggs' cock, Peter suddenly remembers something very important: that freckle. The freckle near the base of the shaft that had made Peter's mouth water with desire when he first saw it in one of the selfies Miggs sent the previous night.

Leaning down, Peter places a soft kiss right on the tiny spot. Miggs' breath catches and Peter slowly traces his tongue over the freckle, revelling in the gasp it gets him.

"Peter! I-I-Um, I...I feel I should mention, um, since you went and got tested."

When Peter looks up, Miggs is propped up on his elbows staring down at him. His cheeks are dark and the curls near his forehead look damp. Miggs already looks ravished and Peter's barely touched him. Raising his eyebrows inquisitively, Peter waits for Miggs to continue.

"Um...I got tested too," Miggs mumbles, looking embarrassed. "Not long after Aaron broke up with me. I figured better safe than sorry, since I knew he had, um, been ch-cheating on me. And I uh, w-wouldn't put it past him to not be c-careful. But uh...the point is I don't  _ have _ anything, so..."

He trails off with a whimper when Peter smirks and meets his eyes, gently pulling the foreskin down and flattening his tongue against the head of Miggs' dick. Closing his eyes, Peter slides his lips over the head and swipes his tongue against the crown before sucking gently. Above him, he can hear Miggs gasping and moaning, calling his name with an abandon that has Peter rubbing his throbbing cock against the bed.

The hot thickness of Miggs on his tongue and the taste of precome diluting into his saliva makes Peter groan with pleasure. He considers reaching down and jerking his own dick while he continues sucking on Miggs, but he's already so turned on he's not sure he'd last. Instead he settles for shallow thrusts against the bedsheets and letting Miggs overwhelm his senses. His taste is heady on Peter's tongue, smell thick in his nose, the feel of Miggs' thighs pressed tight to Peter's shoulders and the soft skin under his hands. Cries of " _ Peter! _ " ringing desperate in his ears and running  a shiver of pleasure through him...

Peter pulls off of Miggs' cock with a breathless gasp, fingers digging into Miggs' skinny hips while he pants. Opening his eyes, he looks up to see Miggs staring at him with dark, hooded eyes. Peter licks his lips and Miggs' mouth falls open, breath coming fast.

"Peter..." Miggs whispers, reaching down for him. Catching his hand, Peter presses a wet kiss to the palm and cradles it against his cheek. A quiet whimper escapes Miggs. "Peter if you keep that up I'm gonna come."

Peter hums thoughtfully, then turns his head to kiss the palm of Miggs' hand again. Maybe some other time he can make Miggs come just with his mouth, he decides, a little giddy at the thought that there will  _ be _ other times. Pressing Miggs' hand onto the rumpled bedsheets beside him, Peter surges up Miggs' body to capture the man's mouth with his.

Miggs tangles their legs again and thrusts up against him. "I want you to fuck me, Peter," he mumbles against Peter's mouth. "Please, please, Peter, please. I want—I want that.  _ Please _ fuck me, Peter."

Groaning, Peter brings his arms up to frame either side of Miggs' head, burying his fingers in the man's hair as he deepens the kiss. Miggs writhes under him, skin tacky with the beginnings of sweat, and Peter gently tugs on the hair between his fingers to see what will happen. Back arching up immediately, Miggs cries out and shudders against him.

Pulling away just a little, Peter tugs again so he can watch Miggs react. Miggs doesn't disappoint, mouth wet and dark as he lets out a loud moan and shakes under Peter. His eyes are only open a sliver and rolled back so far that he probably can't see anyway. The bruises up and down Miggs' neck, all perfect matches to Peter's mouth, make something possessive and unfamiliar flare up in him. Usually a sight like that would just make Peter feel accomplished, and it does now as well, but with it comes a sense of satisfaction that anyone who looks at Miggs will know he's taken.

The sight of Miggs like this is something Peter's quickly becoming addicted to and he's actually dreading a little when he'll have to go home tomorrow.

" _ Please _ , Peter," Miggs whimpers, hands moving to clutch at Peter's shoulders, and Peter realizes he never actually answered.

Grinning, Peter nods rapidly and dips down to kiss Miggs again before sitting up and glancing around. He's got lube in his bag, but he left that in the kitchen and he'd rather not have to stop touching Miggs long enough to go get it. There's a bedside table with a drawer and Peter points to it while giving Miggs a questioning look. When Miggs just stares at him uncomprehendingly, Peter rolls his eyes and smiles wryly before making a jerking-off gesture and pointing to the drawer again.

Miggs' eyes widen in sudden understanding and he quickly twists to the side to yank open the drawer. "Lube!  _ Yes _ , it—Aha!" He turns back toward Peter, triumphantly holding up a small bottle of lube. Miggs looks so proud of retrieving it that Peter wants to kiss him, and then he remembers that he can.

Smirking, Peter plucks the bottle from Miggs' fingers and drops it on the bed beside him. Then he grabs Miggs' shoulder and shoves him back down against the pillows. With his other hand, he cups the back of Miggs' head and tugs his hair down until Miggs tilts his head back with a gasp. And Peter kisses him, slow and deep and licking his way past teeth and a moan.

Miggs clings to him through the kiss and Peter lets go of his hair so he can reach down and grab the lube. With the ease of practice, Peter flicks open the bottle one-handed, gets some on his fingers, and snaps it closed. Then he abandons Miggs' lips in favor of kissing along his jaw to his ear, nibbling at the lobe. He wants Miggs' mouth free, and tiny whimpers of pleasure are already spilling from it.

At the first touch of Peter's slick fingers to Miggs' crack, Miggs jolts in surprise and gasps. " _ Oh _ , yes, yes, please, Peter, please, yes," he begs, widening his legs.

Peter grins and sits up so he can get a good look at Miggs while he opens him up. Miggs is already a gorgeous mess, flushed and sweat-slick and panting. He's incredibly good for Peter's ego, staring up at him as if Peter holds the secrets of the universe. Peter feels his grin ease into an affectionate smile, and in response Miggs bites his lip and smiles back.

"What?" Miggs mutters breathlessly. "Why're you looking at me like that?"

_ You look good _ , Peter signs, then shakes his head in amusement when Miggs' eyebrows furrow in confusion. He tries pointing at Miggs, then his own eyes, then gives a thumbs-up.

_ That _ Miggs seems to understand, if the way he turns his head to the side and looks embarrassed is any indication. "Flatterer," he mumbles.

Peter just hums in response and resumes trailing his fingers down Miggs crack until they catch on his hole. The muscle twitches at his touch and Peter slowly circles the pads of his fingers against it. It gives easily when he gently presses a finger in, Miggs moaning his approval loudly underneath him. Miggs tries to thrust down onto Peter's finger but Peter grabs his hip and presses it against the mattress, holding him in place while he chuckles at how eager the man is.

Shallow movements of Miggs' hips press against Peter's grip while he pumps first one finger then two into Miggs' responsive body. His legs shift restlessly and his toes curl and his heels dig into the mattress, moans and whines of pleasure falling from his lips in a continuous stream of encouragement.

When he notices Miggs' hands again clutching the bedsheets, Peter has an idea and smirks a little. Letting go of Miggs' hip for a moment, Peter taps the back of Miggs' hand until he looks up. When he has Miggs' attention, he tugs Miggs hand up and then points upward past Miggs' head. Uncertainly, Miggs lifts his hands above his head.

Peter nods his approval and smirks a little at the sight of Miggs stretched out beneath him. He twists his fingers within the hot clutch of Miggs' body and crooks them a little, making Miggs cry out and throw his head back.

"Oh  _ god _ , Peter,  _ please _ ," Miggs moans. "I'm  _ ready _ , don't  _ tease _ me."

Peter chuckles and slowly removes his fingers, getting a protesting groan from Miggs that makes him grin. Miggs is just so damn  _ eager _ , he loves it. Leaning over Miggs, he reaches past him to rummage in the drawer for a condom. Again, he packed some in his bag but he's reluctant to leave the room when Miggs looks so good.

"What are you looking for?" Miggs asks when a frustrated noise escapes Peter. There's a  _ screwdriver _ in the drawer, but no condoms! What good does  _ that _ do except provide an opportunity for terrible puns?

Blowing out a deep breath and directing it upward at the last minute when a strand of hair falls in his eyes, Peter straightens and considers his options. Finally, he checks to make sure Miggs is watching as he holds up the two fingers that were just inside the man, then mimes rolling a condom over them. Miggs' brow furrows for a moment, then his eyebrows fly up in surprise.

"Oh, uh, condom?" At Peter's pleased smile, Miggs bites his lip and glances to the side. "I...don't think I actually have any. None that aren't expired, anyway."

Peter groans in disappointment, moving to get off the bed so he can go get his bag, when Miggs suddenly sits up and grabs his arm, calling out, "Wait!"

At Peter's raised eyebrow, Miggs loosens his grip a little and looks down. "Um, I just thought...I mean you went to the trouble of getting tested, and I haven't had sex since  _ I _ got tested. I thought, you could...do without one?"

When Miggs tilts his head to look up again, his expression is tentatively hopeful and Peter can't help but kiss him. One arm wraps around the back of Miggs' waist as Peter starts a slow, leisurely exploration of the man's mouth. After a few moments, Peter shifts to lay Miggs out and reaches down to slide his fingers into him again.

Miggs is still ready for him, at least if the desperate tone of his begging and the easy give of his body is any indication, and Peter's not sure how much longer he can hold out himself. So Peter abandons the idea of further teasing and slicks up his cock. Running his other hand down Miggs' leg, Peter lifts it to drape over his shoulder and spread the man open more. Grinning, he turns his head and presses a wet, messy kiss to the side of Miggs' knee.

Miggs chokes a little, then giggles, staring up at him in disbelief. "Oh my god, Peter, just  _ fuck _ me already!"

Huffing a quiet laugh, Peter lines himself up with Miggs' hole and slowly presses forward. Miggs gasps, then moans loudly at the gradual stretch of Peter entering him. Peter pauses once the head is in, the sensation of Miggs' tight heat around him making it difficult to hold back, before starting to shallowly thrust in and out. Each tiny movement draws a noise from Miggs, gasps and moans and whimpers as Miggs clutches at his arms. Nothing in his voice or expression indicates discomfort, but Peter checks anyway.

Pausing when he's about halfway in has Miggs opening his eyes to ask dazedly, "Wh-Why'd you stop?"

In response, Peter points to Miggs then makes an "OK" gesture.

A strangled sound escapes Miggs and he thumps his head back on the pillow. " _ Yes! _ Yes, Peter, I'm okay, I'm fine. I was even better when you were  _ fucking  _ me!"

Reaching up, Miggs wraps his arms around Peter's neck and pulls him down on top of him before Peter can catch himself and avoid putting his full weight on the man. Then Miggs locks his ankles behind Peter's ass, cants his hips up, and tightens his legs, shoving Peter forward until he's completely inside of Miggs. Both covered by and filled with Peter, eyes squeezed shut, a low groan bubbles up from Miggs' throat and his grip on Peter momentarily tightens before a shudder travels through the man's body.

A little concerned Miggs may have accidentally hurt himself in his impatience (though unable to deny it felt good from his side of things), Peter moves his hands to either side of Miggs' head. He presses gentle kisses to Miggs' cheeks and lips until Miggs' eyelashes flutter and he slowly opens his eyes. Miggs stares up at him for a moment, then his eyes slide closed again and one hand goes to the back of Peter's head to pull him into a slow kiss. Relieved that Miggs doesn't appear to be hurt, Peter buries his hands in Miggs' hair and deepens the kiss, moaning into it.

Miggs' hips start moving against him, pulling away and pushing back, fucking himself on Peter's cock to the best of his ability with most of Peter's weight on him. A frustrated whimper escapes Miggs when he can't move much and he arches against Peter. Then he pulls away from the kiss just enough to whisper against Peter's lips, " _ Please _ fuck me, Peter. You feel so good. Please...please...please, fuck me, don't stop, want you so bad, Peter..."

Peter groans and captures Miggs' lips again, nipping gently at them as he rolls his hips forward. Miggs gasps and thrusts up against him, legs moving up to wrap around Peter's waist, heels digging into the top of Peter's ass.

Sliding a hand down Miggs' arm, Peter grabs his hand and presses it into the bed beside Miggs' shoulder before lacing their fingers together. Peter pushes himself up with that hand and then does the same with Miggs' other hand. Groaning, Peter gazes down at Miggs as he slowly moves his hips against the man, cock easily sliding in and out of his welcoming heat. Miggs glances to the side, at their joined hands, and makes a token effort to push up. Peter's grip doesn't even loosen and Miggs shudders, eyes going heavy-lidded as he stares up at Peter adoringly.

There's something almost overwhelming in his expression and Peter isn't sure what to do about it, why his ribcage feels too small to contain this nebulous  _ something _ inside of him. It isn't a building orgasm, that's something different and he's not that close yet. It's like that, though. He doesn't know what to do about it, so he just leans down to kiss Miggs again, slow and wet and moaning against each other's mouths.

Peter can feel the hard line of Miggs' cock caught between their bodies, rubbing against Peter's stomach as he rocks into Miggs. The movement of his hips is slow for now, but he can feel the urge to go faster welling at the base of his spine like hot oil dripping down each vertebrae to pool behind his pelvis. Miggs writhes underneath him, legs tightening around his waist as he works to meet each of Peter's thrusts, moaning and whimpering with pleasure. He's gorgeous like this, sweaty and flushed and needy, and all Peter's.

The thought makes Peter's hips jolt forward, breaking the steady rhythm he'd been building up and surprising a gasp from Miggs. Hands tightening on Miggs', Peter rolls his hips in a deep and thorough thrust, drinking in the sight of Miggs and thinking  _ mine _ . He pulls back slowly and then snaps his hips forward again, getting another gasp from Miggs.

From there his speed picks up rapidly and Miggs jolts with each thrust. Peter's name falls from his lips like a mantra, a worshipful prayer, pushing against Peter's grip not at all like he's trying to get away but like he's testing to make sure it's still there. When Peter still doesn't budge, Miggs' back arches and he moans loudly.

Peter can feel the hot rush of release peeking over his shoulder, but he doesn't want to come until Miggs has. He wants to see what Miggs looks like when he comes, without the haze of afterglow clouding his vision. From the way Miggs is gasping and panting and working his hips, Peter's pretty sure he'll get his wish.

"God, Peter, fuck, I'm so close, so so so-God!" Miggs whimpers, staring up at him with lust-blown pupils.

Peter holds his gaze for a moment before lowering himself enough to kiss his swollen lips, moaning into it and letting go with one hand so he can slide it down Miggs' side to grab his ass. Miggs thrusts up against him, cock heavy between them, and reaches up to grab at Peter's shoulder.

"Please, Peter," Miggs whispers against his lips, and Peter pulls back enough to take in the shine of his eyes and the flush of his cheeks. God, he's gorgeous like this and he's like this because of Peter and he's all Peter's to do this with again and again.

Hips pounding relentlessly against Miggs' ass, Peter grunts in exertion as Miggs cries out and arches into him. "Peter!"

Peter lets go of Miggs' ass to reach between them and grab at Miggs' cock. His hand barely has time to slide over the head before Miggs is  _ screaming _ , body taut with pleasure as he tightens around Peter. The curve of his neck is dark and freckled and so very inviting that Peter scrapes his teeth over a bruise from earlier. Miggs sobs and shakes under him, and Peter wraps his arms around the man as he tumbles over the edge after him.

"Peter...god...."

His hips are still pumping slowly, even as he softens within the tight clutch of Miggs' body. There's a slight burn of pain on the back of his shoulder where Miggs is removing his nails from Peter's flesh. He can feel the rapid rise and fall of Miggs' chest against his, the beat of the other man's heart, and realizes he's resting his full weight on Miggs. In fact, he's holding Miggs tight against him and suddenly Peter worries if the man is getting enough air.

Letting go to brace his forearms against the bed so he can lift himself up, Peter is stopped by Miggs wrapping his own arms around Peter with a quiet sound of discontent.

"No don't go!" Miggs says hoarsely, a hint of panic in his voice.

Peter tries to hum reassuringly, but he's not sure how well he hits the mark. He wraps one arm around Miggs and rolls them so he's on his back and Miggs is on top of him. At the surprised look Miggs gives him, Peter responds with a pleased smile as he lifts his eyebrows invitingly.

"Oh," Miggs murmurs, then shifts to plaster himself against Peter's side. One of his legs is slung over Peter's thigh, knee brushing against Peter's soft cock while his foot nestles snugly between Peter's calves.

There's a cooling wetness against Peter's hip from the come on Miggs' stomach. Peter ignores it and brings the arm around Miggs down lower to pet over the man's side. Resting his head on Peter's shoulder, Miggs sighs contentedly while his hand idly scratches through the thick hair on Peter's chest. Peter uses his free hand to take Miggs' hand in his and lift it to his mouth, where he presses a gentle kiss to Miggs' fingers before returning it to his chest.

Miggs breath catches at the gesture, then he presses himself tighter to Peter's side in a sort of sideways hug. "This was...." he starts, then trails off. His voice is still hoarse from how vocal he was earlier, and Peter wonders if it'll still be like that tomorrow. If he'll have to lecture like that.

If everyone will know, from the hickies and the voice, and possibly from his demeanor, that Miggs got laid tonight.

It's a pleasant thought.

"Good," Miggs finally settles on with a puff of wry laughter against Peter's sweat-damp skin. "I haven't felt this good in... I don't remember ever feeling this good. Wow, that's actually kind of sad. What the fuck has my sex life been up to now?"

Peter chuckles and briefly tightens his arm around Miggs, then turns his head to press a kiss to his forehead. While it  _ is _ sad that no one's ever made Miggs feel this good, he can't deny he feels a little smug. And he plans to make Miggs feel like this as often as possible, so hopefully he'll eventually make up for lost time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look this entire chapter is pretty much porn from beginning to end, so if you're not interested in that then your best option is to just skip the whole thing and wait till next week's chapter. See below for my best attempts at a summary.
> 
>  **Unsexy summary:**  
>  Peter tries to lay Miggs down on the bed but Miggs refuses to let go so Peter just lays on him while the makeouts that started at the end of last chapter continue. Peter indicates that he's gonna blow Miggs and Miggs protests that he doesn't have to just because Peter "seemed sort of...insulted on my behalf that Aaron didn't but I was okay with it." Peter asks if Miggs is okay with Peter blowing him and Miggs confirms he is but doesn't want Peter to feel obligated. Blowjob: happens.
> 
> Miggs interrupts to mention he also got tested not long after Aaron-the-shitty-ex broke up with him, because he knew Aaron had cheated on him and given how little consideration the man had shown for him previously it wouldn't be a stretch to assume he hadn't been careful. Bottomline, Miggs is similarly disease-free. This comes up again when Peter tries to find a condom and Miggs admits he doesn't think he has any that aren't expired. ( _"What are you looking for?" Miggs asks when a frustrated noise escapes Peter. There's a_ screwdriver _in the drawer, but no condoms! What good does_ that _do except provide an opportunity for terrible puns?_ ) Before Peter can get up to go get one from his bag, Miggs suggests they just go without and Peter agrees.
> 
> This whole time, btw, there's a lot of enthusiastic verbal consent happening from Miggs. Peter is likewise enjoying himself. On multiple occasions, Peter reflects that Miggs is very attractive and in one case even mentions it to him (You look good, _Peter signs, then shakes his head in amusement when Miggs' eyebrows furrow in confusion. He tries pointing at Miggs, then his own eyes, then gives a thumbs-up._ ).
> 
> Sex: happens. During which, Peter again checks to make sure Miggs is doing okay and Miggs responds with enthusiastic consent. Hand-holding and eye-contact: also happens. Peter does not understand or know how to deal with all these feels ( _Peter isn't sure what to do about it, why his ribcage feels too small to contain this nebulous_ something _inside of him._ ). So there's some kissing in lieu of introspection.
> 
> Orgasms: happen. Accompanied by mutual clinging. Peter realizes he's laying completely on Miggs and tries to get up, but Miggs acts somewhat panicked and won't let go. Peter solves the problem by rolling onto his back and bringing Miggs with him so Miggs is on top. Let the snuggling begin!
> 
> End: _"I haven't felt this good in... I don't remember ever feeling this good. Wow, that's actually kind of sad. What the fuck has my sex life been up to now?"_  
>  Peter chuckles and briefly tightens his arm around Miggs, then turns his head to press a kiss to his forehead. While it is _sad that no one's ever made Miggs feel this good, he can't deny he feels a little smug. And he plans to make Miggs feel like this as often as possible, so hopefully he'll eventually make up for lost time._
> 
> \---
> 
> So that's the summary. I know it's pretty long, but then so is this chapter. There's a bit more sexual content in the next couple chapters, but nothing like this much. And after that I'll probably be making use of more fade-to-blacks and similar rather than in-depth detailed shenanigans. Thanks for sticking with me, folks! :D


	18. In Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What it says on the tin, Miggs and Peter in bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor sexual content, deeefinitely not as much as last chapter but still some. As usual check the end notes for your guide to avoiding it.
> 
> Also, apologies for missing last week's update. My patreon patrons got a filler update of a preview of some other stuff I'm working on, but I didn't really have anything to post here. If you want the details of why I missed last week's update, you can read my post about it [HERE](http://doctorvtumbls.tumblr.com/post/150136240953/nfltb-delay). Long story short, I blew through my buffer while work was needing extra time from me and gave myself a week to catch back up. X(

Eventually the afterglow gives way to the desire to not have dried come gluing them together in the morning and Miggs grabs a pack of tissues from his bedside table. While Miggs cleans himself off, Peter reluctantly gets out of bed, silencing Miggs' protest with a lingering kiss and a smile. He holds up an index finger to indicate he'll just be a minute and Miggs slowly nods, a confused frown on his face.

Peter still ends up walking backwards to the bedroom door, taking in the sight of Miggs post-coital for as long as he can. It's an inviting sight and the only thing that keeps him moving is the memory of Dr. Chaudhri's disapproving frown.

On the way to the kitchen he turns off the TV and grabs their plates from dinner, leaving his phone for when he passes through again. The plates go in the sink to be dealt with in the morning; they're only a little greasy so washing them won't take long. His duffle is still on the counter and he snatches it up as he heads back out of the kitchen, not taking any longer than he has to in returning to Miggs. Shoving his phone into an open side pocket on his dufflebag, Peter quickly slips back into the bedroom.

Miggs looks up from neatening the pillows and sheets, the relief flooding his features making Peter wonder if the man had actually been concerned he wouldn't return. Well he did, and he doesn't intend to leave until he has to. Dropping his duffle on the end of the bed, Peter moves around so he can lean over and cup Miggs' chin with one hand while he kisses him.

"Mm, did you really need to get your bag?" Miggs murmurs against his lips, eyes opening slowly as Peter pulls away.

Peter hesitates while he considers the question. It's one thing to tell Miggs he's deaf, late at night when they're exchanging secrets. It's another thing entirely to show him exactly what that means for Peter's everyday life.

"Peter?" Miggs asks, eyebrows furrowing in concern. "Are you okay? I was mostly joking. I mean if you want your bag you can get your bag, I—"

Peter stops him by gently pressing his fingers to Miggs' lips and quietly shushing him. With a smile that he hopes is more reassuring than nervous, Peter leans over to snag the strap of his duffle and pull it closer. Then he digs around in it until he comes up with the protective plastic case he keeps his hearing aids in when he's not wearing them. He holds it out to Miggs, who takes it and frowns in confusion.

"What is this?"

Peter licks his lips nervously and reaches up to one ear to slowly remove a hearing aid, trying not to grimace at the way the ambient sound goes muffled with one ear out of commission. Turning the tiny thing off, he sets it in his palm and holds it up for Miggs to see. He can see the moment when it clicks, Miggs' eyebrows rise in sudden understanding.

"Oh," he says softly, looking from the aid to the case. "Like with contacts?" He motions to his own eyes. "You have to take them out at night?"

Peter nods, smiling as his shoulders relax a little. He appreciates that Miggs is treating it like something normal, like just a regular part of a bedtime routine. Taking the case from him, Peter pops it open one-handed before handing it back. While Miggs holds the case for him, Peter sets the hearing aid in place inside and gives a little flourish of his hands while grinning at Miggs. Miggs smiles back and offers the case back to him, then bites his lip as a thought occurs to him.

"Oh, you're not going to be able to hear me when you take the other one out, right?"

Twisting his mouth to one side in regret, Peter nods.

"Then...I guess now would be the time to tell you this is the best date I've been on since..." Miggs hesitates, glancing to the side, then looks up at him and smiles wryly. "Honestly, since before I started seeing Aaron. So...thanks."

Cupping Miggs' cheek with his free hand, Peter leans in to kiss him again, as if kissing him enough times will wipe the slate clean on his dating history. The kiss is slow and gentle and Miggs whimpers a little before reaching out to rest his hands on Peter's bare hips. He feels some stirring interest in going another round with Miggs, but he's pretty sure he'll have to get up early in order to get the man to work on time tomorrow. Besides, he's staying the night. Morning sex is actually an option.

"What are you grinning about?" Miggs breaks the kiss to ask, looking amused. Peter just shakes his head and drops a quick, smacking kiss to his forehead, making Miggs laugh. "Fine, keep your secrets."

Scooting back a little on his bed, Miggs tilts his head down so he can peer up at Peter through his lashes. "Come to bed with me?"

Peter takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out, savoring the moment, then sets his hearing aid case on the bedside table before he grins and nods. Miggs' answering smile is eager and Peter hastens to grab his phone out of his duffle and toss the duffle on the floor so he can climb into the bed beside him.

They shuffle around under the covers until they're both comfortable, laying side-by-side facing each other. Admittedly, it's a position Peter has occasionally wished to be in ever since sending Miggs that first selfie in bed. That he's seeing Miggs in bed and drowsy-eyed and can actually reach out and touch him seems almost surreal for a moment. Peter brushes a stray curl back from Miggs' forehead just because he can.

It seems Miggs' thoughts are running along a similar vein because he murmurs shyly, "Thanks for keeping me from being alone, Peter. For being there for me."

 _Nowhere I'd rather be_ , Peter signs in response even though he knows Miggs' won't understand.

Miggs smiles sheepishly. "I have no idea what you just said," he admits.

Shaking his head, because it's not important, Peter smiles and takes Miggs' hand in his so he can kiss the back of his knuckles. Hopefully the gesture will convey at least some of what he's feeling right now, and if not then his expression will. From the blush rising on Miggs' cheeks, he's pretty sure it does.

Rolling over enough to grab the case again, Peter turns an apologetic sort of wince in Miggs' direction and holds it up with a little wiggle. He's really not looking forward to another lecture from Dr. Chaudhri if he once again fails to remove both hearing aids before bed.

"Right. Well...goodnight?"

Peter smiles and signs, _Good night_. The motions are a little awkward laying on his side, but Miggs doesn't understand them anyway so it doesn't matter if he's sloppy. Then he takes out his other hearing aid, grimacing a bit at the sudden lack of sound, and tucks it away beside the other in their case. He sets the case aside again and makes sure his phone is under the pillow he's claiming as his own for tonight before turning his attention back to Miggs.

Miggs says something, and Peter's seen those particular mouth movements enough times that it's not especially difficult to read the man's question of "Can you hear me?" Leveling an unimpressed look at his bed partner, Peter pointedly rolls his eyes. Miggs at least has the decency to look chagrined and Peter watches his lips form a "Sorry".

A forgiving smile and open arms are offered to the man and Miggs happily tucks himself against Peter's body. Their legs tangle together under the sheets and Peter can feel Miggs' chest rise and fall with a sigh that caresses his chest. It feels good to hold Miggs close like this, something about the bare skin and body heat, the breath and heartbeat undeniably soothing.

Under the hand on Miggs' back, there's a vibration, accompanied by an uneven exhalation against Peter's skin. Miggs saying something, he thinks. What he could be saying when he knows Peter can't hear him, he's not sure, but he tightens his arms around him and presses a kiss to his hair anyway. A soft kiss lands just below his collarbone and Peter falls asleep with a smile on his face.

 

* * *

 

 Awareness returns to him slowly, accompanied by a low, pulsing warmth. Peter hums in appreciation and presses his hips forward, mind too fuzzy to question the soft heat he encounters, or the weight in his arms. Eyes still closed, he tightens his arms and buries his nose in soft curls, lips finding skin and lazily kissing it.

The form in his arms shivers and pushes back against him, undulating against his hardening cock. The thought crosses his mind that he wishes he had his hearing aids in so he could hear the sounds Miggs is making, which is what finally reminds him where he is. It's Miggs in his arms, sleep-warm and soft, circling his hips restlessly and rubbing Peter's cock to full wakefulness with his ass.

Peter trails sleepy kisses over Miggs' neck and moves one hand lower to grab at his hip as he grinds against the man's ass with more purpose. Another shiver runs through Miggs and he squirms in Peter's arms. Nose deep in Miggs' hair, Peter takes a deep breath and decides he likes how he smells early in the morning; there's still a faint hint of his shampoo over the scent of his skin warm with sleep.

Miggs reaches back to grab at Peter's hip as he arches his back, shoulders and hips pressing back against Peter and making him groan. He starts to slide his hand over the side of Miggs' hip to the front, fingers just brushing over Miggs' erection, when Miggs suddenly twitches, freezes for a moment, then slumps in a way that doesn't feel particularly enthusiastic. Then Miggs starts moving away from him. Peter's pretty sure he made some sort of noise in protest because Miggs hesitates. Then he twitches again and continues moving away.

Frowning, Peter finally opens his eyes to find Miggs fumbling for something on the bedside table, expression clearly irritated but resigned. When Miggs notices him watching, he winces a little and holds up the object, which turns out to be his phone. From the blinking clock on the screen, Peter guesses that Miggs' alarm just went off. He makes a face at it and Miggs gives him an amused smile, then says something that looks like "Good morning."

Peter covers his mouth as a yawn overtakes him, then sits up enough that he can sign _Good morning._

Brow furrowing a little, Miggs bites his lip and hesitantly tries to imitate Peter's movements. It's sloppy, but it's undeniably _Good morning_. Peter's eyebrows lift in surprise and he grins in delight. Miggs looks relieved and pleased, and Peter slides closer so he can pull the man into his arms and kiss him. There's some morning breath, and he's pretty sure his own mouth isn't any fresher, but Miggs melts into it and fits perfectly against him.

Miggs pulls away again, expression regretful, and holds up his phone to point to the time. Peter hadn't noticed the time before, but apparently Miggs gets up at godawful o'clock in the morning. He makes a face again, sticking his tongue out a little, and Miggs' shoulders shake. Peter assumes the movement is from laughter, judging by the way Miggs is grinning.

With a resigned sigh, Peter rolls back over to his side of the bed so he can grab his hearing aids. After settling them in place, he snaps his fingers beside his ears a few times to check the volume. He's only accidentally adjusted the volume a handful of times when turning them on and off, but the experiences made a lasting impression.

When he turns back to Miggs, the man is watching him with a soft smile. Peter raises an eyebrow but Miggs just shakes his head. "I assume from your expression you don't usually get up this early?"

Peter shakes his head and Miggs ducks his head a little, looking sheepish. "Sorry about that."

Reaching out, Peter gently runs the back of a knuckle down Miggs' cheek, smiling as he shakes his head again. _More time with you,_ he signs.

Miggs' cheeks go dark and he looks away. "I'm not sure what you just said, but knowing you it was sappy and flattering."

Giving a playful growl, Peter rolls on top of the man, pinning Miggs to the bed. Miggs lets out a surprised shout, then starts laughing as Peter attacks his neck with nibbling teeth. "Peter! Oh my god, I have to get ready for _work_ , Peter!"

Their legs are tangled, and when Peter tries to pull away Miggs arms are around his neck, so he's pretty sure Miggs' protests are half-hearted at best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to avoid mention of bodily fluids of a sexual nature, skip the first sentence.
> 
> After that, if you don't want to read any half-asleep morning humping, skip the second section up until _Miggs suddenly twitches, freezes for a moment, then slumps in a way that doesn't feel particularly enthusiastic._  
>  After that there's still some snuggling but no dicks.
> 
> The only thing really of note hidden among the minor sexual content is this: _Nose deep in Miggs' hair, Peter takes a deep breath and decides he likes how he smells early in the morning; there's still a faint hint of his shampoo over the scent of his skin warm with sleep._


	19. Shower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This morning just keeps dragging on. And after last night, they need a shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: sexual content. (See End Notes for avoidance techniques.)

The only thing that stops them from following through with their fledgling attempt at morning sex is Miggs' alarm going off again, startling them both this time. Peter grumbles about having to give up the warm cocoon they've created together, but reluctantly lets go of Miggs so they can both get up.

Miggs flashes him an apologetic smile and mumbles something about needing a shower as he gets out of bed. Peter smirks at him to show that the reason Miggs needs a shower is still very clear in his mind, prompting a blush from the man. Miggs opens his mouth like he wants to say something, then closes it, then repeats the motions a few times.

 _You look like a fish,_ Peter tells him, grinning. At Miggs' confused look, he puts his hands to his cheeks and moves them like gills while puckering his lips.

Miggs snorts and looks away, fighting back a smile as he says, "Fuck you."

 _Maybe next time,_ Peter replies with a wink and a wag of his eyebrows, getting a laugh from Miggs.

As he heads for the shower, backside waving enticingly, Miggs calls over his shoulder, "I'm not sure what you said, but I'm pretty sure it was filthy."

Peter falls back against the pillows, laughing out loud in a rare moment of unselfconsciousness at the sound of his own voice.

 

* * *

 

 Pouring the breakfast casserole in the dish he brought and setting it up to heat in the oven takes hardly any time at all, and by the time he shuts the oven door he can hear the shower just starting up. Peter lifts his arms above his head, clasping his hands and pushing up to stretch himself out. His muscles ache just a bit from last night, it's been longer than he realized since he last had sex. Maybe Miggs isn't the only one who's been finding others lacking since meeting him...

Thoughts winding their way back to Miggs, Peter glances in the direction of the bathroom and smiles slowly. Hot water on his skin and getting to see Miggs naked again sound appealing, but he's pretty sure he'll have to wait till he gets home for a shower of his own. Even so, nothing says he can't go watch.

Rapping his knuckles against the bathroom door, Peter slowly opens it, suddenly glad that he had put on his sunglasses before exiting the bedroom. He hadn't been eager for a repeat of the eyeful of agony he'd gotten last time he'd been in Miggs' apartment early in the morning. For all that there isn't any sunlight in it, the bathroom is just as bright, if not brighter.

The shower curtain twitches and Miggs pokes his head out, curls dark and flattened against his head. One eye is squeezed shut as water trickles down that side of his face, while the other flickers over Peter's face before making a slow downward sweep of the rest of Peter's body. A dark blush blooms across Miggs' face and Peter smirks, suddenly glad that his glasses were the _only_ thing he'd bothered to put on so far that morning. He ventures further into the room and adjusts his stance so Miggs can look his fill easier, though it seems to have the opposite effect as Miggs' eyes immediately dart back to his face.

"You...uh... Did you...w-want to...join me?" Miggs asks, sounding a little strangled and breathless. His expression is embarrassed but hopeful.

Peter would like nothing better, honestly, than to watch the water sliding down Miggs' flushed skin. Reluctantly, he grimaces and lifts a hand, finger splayed out to sign _Shower_ . Then he repeats the gesture right next to his ear and does his best to imitate the electrical popping sound his hearing aids had made last time the damn things had shorted out. " _Zzt!_ "

Miggs squints at him during this, then his eyebrow lift in surprise. "They're not _waterproof_ ?" At Peter's nod, Miggs looks vaguely insulted. "Peter you live in _Seattle_. The fuck kind of design flaw is that?"

Rather than try to explain through mime that they're experimental and he's actually something of a guinea pig, Peter just shrugs and gives him a sheepish smile.

"Well, can't you just...take them out?" Miggs asks, looking confused. "You did last night."

Peter hesitates, glancing to the side and catching a glimpse of his reflection in the bathroom mirror. That... _is_ technically a thing he could do. But it's also completely different from taking his hearing aids out around Miggs when they're both about to be unconscious. Then of course there's the matter of the brightness of the room and how awkward it is to shower in glasses. Peter taps the side of them to make that point

A skinny shoulder appears from behind the shower curtain as Miggs shrugs. "Leave the door open and turn off the light. There should be enough light outside for me to see by, and I have my eyes closed during most of my shower anyway." He pauses and bites his lip, uncertainty creeping into his expression. "Unless... I mean, you don't _have_ to join me. I just thought..."

Peter sighs and opens the door further before flipping off the bathroom light. A startled sound comes from Miggs' direction, then a soft "Oh."

His glasses make a quiet " _tick_ " as he sets them on the counter. Then he braces himself for the sudden absence of sound when he takes out his hearing aids. The ambient sound of the shower cuts out abruptly and he finds himself glancing up just to make sure it's still running. Miggs is watching him with wide eyes and Peter gives him a nervous smile. Making sure to carefully place the aids between the earpieces of his sunglasses so they won't roll away, he doesn't spare them a second thought as the shower curtain moves aside a little more to reveal Miggs' lightly-freckled chest.

When Miggs steps aside to let him in, Peter follows closely. The shower probably isn't big enough for two grown men, but Peter isn't planning to move far enough away from Miggs to find out.

Miggs stares up at him uncertainly, his eyelashes clinging together in wet spikes, and Peter lifts one hand to gently brush the back of his knuckles down Miggs' wet cheek. Miggs catches his hand before he can move it away, pressing his cheek into Peter's palm and closing his eyes contentedly. Peter wraps an arm around Miggs' waist, pulling him in close, and Miggs goes willingly. Pressed together skin-to-wet-skin, their mouths meet in a languid kiss as the spray falls over them.

Miggs tastes like the water caught in the indent of his lips. Peter chases the taste down his jaw, one hand sliding down the man's slick back to cup the curve of Miggs' ass. He can feel the vibration of Miggs' voice against his mouth as Peter drags his tongue up the side of his throat. It feels too consistent to be words, so Peter assumes Miggs is moaning. Either way, Miggs' is curved against him in open invitation, one hand clinging to Peter's shoulder and the other clutching Peter's hair.

As Peter scrapes his teeth over the dip between neck and shoulder, Miggs' hips jolt forward, hard cock brushing against Peter's leg. Hand tightening on Miggs' ass, Peter shifts his weight and moves his leg to encourage Miggs to grind against him. Miggs shudders and does just that, fingers digging into Peter's shoulder and scalp while his hips move against him.

Peter lifts his head to look Miggs over. His mouth is open like he's panting for breath and his eyes are barely open, sodden curls clinging to his forehead making him look oddly fragile. It makes Peter want to hold him close and protect him.

It also makes him want to see Miggs completely wrecked.

Peter sets that aside as a goal for another day, when he has more time with Miggs all to himself without having to consider whether the man will still be able to get enough sleep to survive his workday. For now, he'll see what he can fit into the little time they have left together this morning.

Diving in for another kiss, Peter gently turns Miggs to the side and presses him against the wall. Miggs twitches and then shivers, probably from the cold tiles against his heated skin. Reaching down, Peter takes Miggs' cock in one hand and gives it a few leisurely strokes, Miggs arching into the touch immediately.

When Peter pulls back from the kiss, Miggs grabs at the back of his head and tries to pull him back in. Grinning, Peter resists, getting an adorably perplexed frown from Miggs in response. Miggs opens his eyes to stare at him, mouth moving to form something that looks like "What?"

Peter's grin turns into a smirk and he lets go of Miggs' cock so he can sink to one knee in front of the man. Miggs' eyes widen as he stares down at him, mouth a wet, bruised "oh" as Peter takes his cock in hand again and leans in to brush his tongue over the tip. That gets a full-bodied shudder from Miggs and his hips try to thrust forward, only stopped by Peter's other hand on his hip.

The look on Miggs' face is so betrayed that Peter has to pull away and laugh, then stops abruptly as he realizes he can't hear it. Obviously. He can't hear _anything_ right now, but especially _himself_ . He has no idea how loud it was, or if it sounded _off_ , or fucking anything. Mentally cursing the slip, he turns his attention back to Miggs' cock and curls his tongue along the underside of the head before sliding it past his lips.

The feel of one of Miggs' hands leaving his shoulder and gentle fingertips tracing over his cheek make Peter look up. Miggs' eyebrows are drawn together in something like a question and his bottom lip is caught between his teeth in pleasure. The shower spray glances off Peter's shoulder and bounces up to mist against his neck, but he has more important things to focus on. With a blush heating his cheeks, Peter closes his eyes and concentrates on giving Miggs' cock the attention it deserves.

Miggs' fingers find their way back to his hair, burying themselves deep in the wet strands. Relaxing his hold on Miggs' hip, Peter lets Miggs start shallowly thrusting into his mouth, tongue darting over as much as it can reach. The taste of him and the stuttering motion of Miggs' hips as he gets closer makes Peter's own neglected cock throb with need and he reaches down to start stroking himself.

Miggs' fingers curl around the back of Peter's head, pressing forward in a way Peter recognizes as probably not intentional. Opening his eyes, Peter glances up to find Miggs staring down at him, lust and affection abundant in his expression. He speeds up his hand on his own cock and moves his other hand to squeeze Miggs' ass, encouraging him to thrust faster. Miggs shudders, hips losing all rhythm as he does as directed.

Miggs' chest heaves with his panted breath, eyes never leaving Peter's face as he jerks forward again and again. His mouth forms the shape of Peter's name and Peter sucks hard, tongue circling the head in thick swipes. He can feel his own orgasm crawling up the base of his spine and a moan vibrates up from his throat to curl around Miggs' cock. Miggs' hips snap forward while his head falls back, mouth gaping open in ecstasy for the last few desperate thrusts into Peter's mouth.

The sight of Miggs stretched out above him in a tight line of pleasure and the taste of him spilling hot and thick across Peter's tongue has him coming over his own hand soon after, gradually slowing his strokes to savor the pulsing sensation running through him. Miggs' hand gently pushing against his shoulder reminds him to let the man's cock slide out of his mouth and Peter sighs contentedly as it passes over his lips.

Eyes drooping closed again, Peter leans his head against Miggs' stomach while he focuses on his breathing and the languid pleasure settling deep in his bones. Miggs' hand lazily strokes through his hair and when Peter looks up the man looks sated, smiling affectionately at him. His mouth moves in the shape of Peter's name again, then something else that he can't quite make out. Possibly "Thank you"? Either way, Peter smiles back.

The water hitting his shoulder feels noticeably cooler, so Peter figures they have a limited amount of time left with hot water. Pushing himself back to his feet, he tugs Miggs close and wraps him up in his arms, kissing him deeply before pulling away just a bit.

With a wry smile, Peter points to Miggs' shampoo and then himself, eyebrows conveying the question in the gesture. Eyes following Peter's motions attentively, understanding flickers over Miggs' expression and he nods. Grinning, Peter signs a quick _Thanks_ and grabs the bottle, pouring some in his hand and getting to work on his hair. Still pressed close to him, Miggs picks up the soap and they're well on their way to finding out if there's enough room in the shower for both of them to wash at the same time.

The answer turns out to be yes, but barely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're here to avoid yet more sex as these horny bastards wallow in the high of a new relationship, I apologize. They were supposed to be on the road already at this point. Then I ended up bribing Grayce with promises of shower sex and here we are. *shruuug* Anyway, pretty sure this is the last of the really detailed sexual content. I'm planning for most of the sexual content from this point on to be mainly references and fade-to-black, with at least one notable exception, so hopefully there won't be many more End Notes with roadmaps to avoid sexy landmines. As always, though, any future sexual content WILL be properly warned for.
> 
>  **For this chapter specifically!** First section has nudity and some vague mention of prior sex, though nothing explicit.  
>  Second section has some more general mention of prior sex and nudity, then some ogling and some nude intimacy, aaand the sexual content kicks in around _Miggs tastes like the water caught in the indent of his lips._ (If you want to avoid the kissing altogether, stop at _Peter wraps an arm around Miggs' waist [...]_ )
> 
> You can probably come back around _Eyes drooping closed again, Peter leans his head against Miggs' stomach [...]_ if you don't mind some afterglow and more kissing. If you want to avoid that too, come back at _With a wry smile, Peter points to Miggs' shampoo and then himself [...]_
> 
> In between those things, a BJ happens.  
> As well as some internalized ableism from Peter: _The look on Miggs' face is so betrayed that Peter has to pull away and laugh, then stops abruptly as he realizes he can't hear it. Obviously. He can't hear_ anything _right now, but especially_ himself _. He has no idea how loud it was, or if it sounded_ off _, or fucking anything. Mentally cursing the slip, he turns his attention back to Miggs [...]_ (Check it out, new tag!)


	20. Dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The apartment is finally vacated and ways are temporarily parted.  
> Plans are made to make plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! So, important announcement, folks. Updates are changing to once a week on _Sundays_. Because I was a fool to think I could update in the middle of the week when I work full-time AND have classes. So, expect the next update Sunday of next week.
> 
> It will be Intermission _número uno_. Are you excited to see what that means? You should be, it's extra long. :3
> 
> Uhhh, as far as sexual content goes, there's some mentions of nudity and some kissing, but that's about it. Probably won't be having many sexual content warnings for a while.

He ends up washing Miggs' hair too before they get out of the shower, though the rapidly cooling water means they can't linger as long as either of them would prefer. The way Miggs melts against him when Peter's fingers are buried in his wet, sudsy curls is something he wants to explore at length some time, though.

It seems like he just keeps finding things he wants to take his time with, with Miggs.

After the shower, Peter finishes getting breakfast ready while Miggs gets dressed. The breakfast casserole probably could have stood to be taken out a few minutes earlier, but it's not burnt so there's no harm in it being a little darker than golden brown. It still _tastes_ fine.

"I almost expect to wake up any time now," Miggs mumbles from behind him. Peter glances over his shoulder to raise a questioning eyebrow at the man and Miggs continues. "You cook, you like _Space Adventure_ , you're hot, you're...standing there completely naked in my kitchen..." Miggs' eyes stray below Peter's waistline and he bites his bottom lip as a flush spreads across his face, making Peter smirk. The decision to forgo a towel after drying off had been a good one, he decides.

With an almost wistful sigh and a vague gesture in Peter's general direction, Miggs finishes with, "You're too good to be true, Peter. I probably drank myself unconscious and I'm now passed-out in a gutter somewhere."

Peter snorts in amusement and rolls his eyes, leaving breakfast on the counter to approach Miggs and pull the man into his arms. Leaning his head against Peter's shoulder, Miggs lets out an even deeper sigh, arms coming up to wrap loosely around Peter's middle. "It's going to be so disappointing when I wake up and discover I _don't_ actually have a hot naked man wandering my apartment and cooking me breakfast," Miggs says, sounding mournful.

He's _pretty_ sure Miggs is kidding, but Peter still leans back enough so that Miggs can see him. Eyebrows furrowed in a question, he points to Miggs and then makes an "OK" gesture.

Looking confused, Miggs asks, "What? I'm fine, why do you— _Oh._ " His eyes widen a little as if something has suddenly occurred to him. "Peter...can I ask something and if I'm being rude you can tell me to mind my own fucking business?"

Wary, Peter slowly nods, and Miggs takes a half-step back. Eyes sliding away to the side, Miggs bites his lip nervously.

"You uh...you've been deaf most of your life, right?" he asks. Again, Peter gives a wary nod. "How... H-How good are you at, um, distinguishing tone of voice?"

Blowing out a breath, Peter grimaces and reluctantly holds up a hand palm-down, wiggling it a bit. He's only recently gotten to a point where he's fairly confident in his ability to recognize the voices of people he knows, tone is still a work in progress. A largely successful one, but he usually leans heavily on his ability to read expressions and body language. Miggs' expression and body language since he'd entered the kitchen has mostly suggested lust and disappointment.

Peter points to his own eyes, then Miggs, then circles a finger around his own face, trying to convey that he's been taking cues on Miggs' tone of voice from watching the man.

"I was joking," Miggs clarifies, looking a little embarrassed. "Mostly. Though it'd be just my luck for all this to be a dream." He chuckles and glances up, still-damp bangs falling over his eyes. "Pretty sure I couldn't have dreamed up sex that good, though."

" _Pff!_ " Peter pulls him in close again and laughs quietly, pressing kisses along Miggs' hairline while reaching down to grab his ass.

Miggs yelps in surprise and starts laughing too. " _Peter!_ "

 

* * *

 

 They end up fooling around a little more until Miggs notices the time and panics. Breakfast is a hurried affair after that, though Miggs makes sure to voice his appreciation of it. When they're done, Peter jokingly motions to his naked body and mimes buttoning up a shirt, eyebrows making the gesture a question.

"Much as I'd love for you to be naked all the time, you'd probably get arrested eventually," Miggs replies, grinning as he scoops up some papers from the coffee table and shoves them in his backpack.

Chuckling, Peter quickly dresses, experience making him more than capable of getting ready in a hurry and looking presentable. Last-minute missions with OWCA and his usual one-night-stands have contributed in nearly equal measure to the honing of that skill.

Once he's got his dufflebag packed up again and phone pocketed, he joins Miggs at the front door, where the man is nervously jiggling his keys in one hand. Peter makes an "after you" gesture towards the door, grinning at him. Miggs nods and opens it absently, looking like he's trying to remember something. Probably going over a mental checklist, Peter figures.

Miggs suddenly inhales sharply, eyes widening. "Wait, what about breakfast?"

Pulling his notepad from his back pocket, Peter quickly scribbles, _FRIDGE_ and holds it up. He thought Miggs saw him put it in the refrigerator before heading off to get dressed.

"But..." Miggs circles one hand, looking at Peter like he's struggling to find the words to properly communicate his thoughts. Finally he manages in a weak voice, "Your dish? What about the dish it's in?"

Understanding dawns and Peter smirks a little as he scratches out another quick note. _Have to come back to get it._ Then while Miggs reads it, he leans in and kisses the man's temple.

When Miggs looks up at him, hope almost painfully clear on his face, Peter wags his eyebrows before heading out the door. He doesn't give the apartment a backwards glance, and it feels like a promise.

 

* * *

 

 They hold hands for part of the elevator ride down to the parking garage, fingers meeting and tangling as they both close the distance at the same time. Miggs looks shyly pleased, biting his bottom lip trying to hold back a smile. With a gentle tug, Peter pulls him closer, not bothering to hide his own smile when Miggs leans against his side.

They only part when they get to Peter's motorcycle, Miggs needing both hands free to rearrange his backpack so it's closed and secure over both shoulders. Curls keep falling over his face and Miggs absently blows at them or bats them away. Peter chuckles and Miggs finally looks up, wiggling his shoulders a little to settle his backpack.

"What?"

 _Cute_ , Peter signs, pointing at him and smirking.

Miggs frowns suspiciously. "What's that mean?"

Sitting astride his bike, Peter gives him an innocent look and spreads his hands, shrugging. Growing up with freckles and curls, he's pretty sure he's not the first person to call Miggs cute. Given the personality lurking just below those, he's also pretty sure Miggs has made a few of those people regret bringing it up.

Miggs sticks his tongue out at Peter and climbs on behind him, playfully grumbling, "Asshole."

Peter just laughs in response as he backs out of the parking spot.

They make decent time to the college, only encountering a few pockets of traffic on the way. As he turns in to the parking lot, Peter almost wishes they'd ended up in a traffic jam. He's not quite ready to part ways just yet, even though he knows they'll probably end up texting back and forth throughout the day like usual.

There aren't any parking spots near the front, so Peter just pulls up to the curb, planting his feet firmly as he removes his helmet. He can feel Miggs hesitating behind him, seeming just as reluctant to leave as Peter. When Miggs finally climbs off the back of the bike, he only moves to stand beside it, both of them staring at each other with an uncertainty that's been largely absent from their interactions after they got their footing with each other yesterday.

"So I...guess I'll see you later?" Miggs says awkwardly.

Peter nods.

"Well. I'll probably text you before I see you again."

Peter nods again.

Glancing back at the building he works in, Miggs chews on his bottom lip for a moment as he mulls something over. He closes his eyes, winces a little like the practice conversation in his head is going badly, and turns back to Peter. Peter gives him an encouraging smile and some of the nervousness slides away from Miggs' features.

"We could— I mean—" Miggs grimaces and takes a breath, letting it out slowly before trying again. "We could maybe get t-together again over um...the uh, the weekend?" He ducks his head, blushing. "You could...stay? Over? Overnight? And um...we wouldn't have to...get up... _early_?"

Grinning, Peter reaches out to cup a hand over the side of Miggs' waist and pull him closer. Miggs stumbles forward a few steps and Peter snags the man's tie with his other hand, gently tugging until Miggs bends over enough to capture his lips in a slow, deep kiss. Miggs whimpers a little and Peter's fingers on his waist tighten, hooking under the man's belt as if Miggs might try to get away.

There's a distant, encouraging whoop from someone, probably a student, and Miggs pulls back. He looks like he's not sure whether to be embarrassed or pleased. Peter follows him just enough to plant one more quick peck against his lips and Miggs huffs in amusement.

 _I'll text you a time,_ Peter signs, hoping the motions are obvious enough for Miggs to understand.

"You'll text what time you're free?" Miggs guesses, eyebrows anxiously emphasizing the question.

Peter grins in approval and nods, reaching up to affectionately brush his knuckles down Miggs' cheek. It's... _nice_ being so readily understood by someone outside his family. He doesn't usually sign this much around people he knows don't understand ASL, at least not anyone he's not insulting to their face. But Miggs actually makes an effort, instead of demanding Peter just write out what he's trying to communicate. Or worse, flat-out ignoring him or the possibility that he might have input.

His chest feels a little tight just thinking about how much he appreciates that effort.

Taking Miggs' hand in his, Peter skims a kiss over the back of it and gives it a quick squeeze before letting go. _See you later,_ he signs.

Miggs is biting his lip again, the corners of his mouth tilting upward giddily. "Yeah..." he mumbles, stepping up onto the curb. "I'll...see you."

He opens his mouth like he wants to say something else, and Peter waits patiently. Miggs changes his mind though, shaking his head and looking down with his cheeks dark and expression embarrassed.

With a shrug, Peter grins and puts his helmet back on. He's going to have to be the one to leave, because Miggs still isn't making his way toward the class he's supposed to be teaching. Giving a cheery salute, Peter faces forward and pulls away from the curb, heading toward home and hopefully a nap.


	21. Intermission One: I'll Tell You Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's see someone else's POV for a change. Because otherwise we wouldn't know what he's up to right now until a great many chapters later.  
> Miggs has an idea and gives it a try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I'm pretty sure we're actually going to have TWO intermissions now. Which means this is probably not the halfway point. I just hit 50k in my wordcount. I have no idea how long this thing is going to be. Help. O_O

He can't stop thinking about it, the way Peter had looked when Miggs tried to imitate a sign. The surprise and pleasure on his face were... _breathtaking_. Like he'd never seen anything like the amateur hand-flapping Miggs had managed and thought it was somehow impressive.

He almost looked like he felt the same as Miggs feels just from having Peter's attention.

Speaking of the way Miggs feels, he should probably stop telling Peter he loves him when he knows the man can't hear him and then chickening out when Peter's hearing aids are in. It reeks of deception and feels like taking advantage, and it's not fair to Peter.

They haven't even been dating a week yet, though. I seems much too soon for "I love you". Especially with someone who, by his own admission, doesn't typically date. Miggs will take those words to his grave if it means not scaring Peter off.

Besides, they're only dating because Peter doesn't usually feel the way he feels toward Miggs. He never mentioned love. Obviously there's a fair amount of affection, but he never said _love_.

(Oh, but Miggs can hope.)

Anyway, things are going well between them. It's like when they were just friends except more flirting and a significant increase in sex. Not that Miggs wasn't occasionally jerking off to Peter's selfies before, but now he doesn't have to feel guilty about it. If anything, Peter might actually appreciate receiving a picture of it...

Miggs shakes his head as he walks toward his classroom, willing himself not to get a boner right before work. His pants aren't nearly loose enough to hide that, and he's already going to have to deal with gossip over the purpling bruises Peter left on his neck last night. They're low, but he knows as soon as he starts moving around and writing on the whiteboard in his classroom, his collar will shift enough for them to be visible. He would be annoyed by that, but he can't get around the warm glow they inspire at the thought of Peter laying some sort of claim on him.

Cheeks warm, he lifts one hand to press over a hickie through his shirt collar, the dull ache reminding him of how he got it, bringing a smile to his lips. And again, his thoughts circle back to the way Peter had smiled at Miggs' clumsy attempt to sign _Good morning_ back to him.

Then he remembers the night Peter told him he was deaf. Lying under the stars on the hood of his car, watching the bleak, frightened expression on his best friend's face as he typed out a confession that almost had Miggs wishing he could take it back. Take back his own urge to share a piece of his background with someone he thought might understand, not realizing just _how_ well Peter understood. Take it back so Peter wouldn't feel obligated to reciprocate with something that had clearly earned him nothing but rejection for most of his life. Something it's obvious now that Peter purposely hides.

And it's something Peter is now sharing with him.

Because Peter wants to _try_. Peter _is_ trying.

The least Miggs can do is try too.

Stopping off at his office to grab some things he needs for class, Miggs stops for a moment as an idea that's been slowly forming finally coalesces into something solid. He plants his hands on top of his desk and leans on them, blowing out a deep breath as he considers it. He's already late for class, another minute won't hurt his students. Some of them need to learn some patience anyway, before they get someone hurt because they couldn't wait long enough to re-check their calculations.

He's nervous, and plenty apprehensive, but the memory of Peter's smile makes up his mind. He's going to try.

 

* * *

 

That evening, standing outside Peter's childhood home again, Miggs frantically tries not to talk himself out of this. Thoughts of imposing and being a bother are flitting through his head faster than he can counter as he slowly walks up to the door, and it's everything he can do just to put one foot in front of the other.

When he finally reaches the door, heart pounding and armpits steadily growing damp despite his antiperspirant, he raises a hand to knock, then stops just inches from the door. His eyes are locked on the cheery little sign above the doorbell: "Ring bell please!"

Is knocking some sort of bizarre _faux pas_ for a household with deaf members? Why is the bell any better, though? Is it just easier for Mrs. Orso to hear it when she's not near the door?

Taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, Miggs does as the sign requests. The muffled sound of the doorbell reaches him and he wonders again why it's any better than a knock.

While he waits, he shoves his hands into his pockets, nails digging into his palms as he fights the urge to turn around and run for his car. He's already committed himself by ringing the doorbell, he admonishes himself. At this point it would be ruder to leave than to make a nuisance of himself to Peter's parents.

After one of the longest minutes of his life, he hears the scrape of a lock and the door slowly opens. Miggs freezes, panic flooding through him as Peter's father peers out at him. Peter's father, who can't hear him and can't read his lips.

A stream of curses floods his brain and he forces his mouth into a nervous smile as Mr. Orso frowns up at him. Then Mr. Orso lights up with recognition as he makes a rapid series of gestures with one hand and smiles at him and... _oh_. That's Peter's _smile_. They may not share a drop of blood, but Peter definitely learned his disarming, welcoming smile from the man before him.

After a cheerful wave, Mr. Orso's expression turns thoughtful and he looks around curiously. Apparently not finding what he's looking for, he makes an odd gesture and then wags his finger, eyebrows lowered questioningly.

"Um..." Miggs croaks out, turning a little to glance behind himself as if he might find whatever Mr. Orso's looking for. "I'm...sorry, I d-don't...sorry?"

Mr. Orso shifts his weight back a little, frowning in consideration. He seems to reach a decision and gives a quick nod then waves his hands in front of himself as if to dismiss whatever he had signed earlier. Raising his eyebrows as he looks at Miggs, Mr. Orso uses his index fingers and thumbs to make circles around his eyes. Then he lifts a flat hand to the side, well above his own head, as if describing someone's height—

"Oh, _Peter_!" Miggs blurts in sudden understanding, momentarily pleased at deciphering the man's meaning before he realizes exactly what the question was. " _Oh_. Um, he's not here." Biting his lip, he tries to figure out how to convey that he's come alone. Repeating Mr. Orso's gesture describing Peter's height, Miggs gestures vaguely to the area around himself and shakes his head. Then he pokes his own chest with an index finger and points down to where he's standing, adding, "Just me."

Surprise flickers onto Mr. Orso's face, but he nods, tilting his head a little. He raises one eyebrow as he points to Miggs, then holds up his hand like a naked sock-puppet and makes it "talk," before finishing up by pointing to himself with a confused look on his face. Asking if Miggs came to talk to him, perhaps?

Awkwardly, Miggs shakes his head. "Um..." He considers how to mime to the man that he's actually there to talk to his wife, but Mr. Orso beats him to it.

Nodding again and smiling, Mr. Orso holds up an index finger to get his attention, then uses both hands to trace a female silhouette in the air in front of him.

Relieved, Miggs lets out a breath and nods quickly. " _Yes_ , exactly."

Mr. Orso shakes his head, then motions for Miggs to enter the house, smiling Peter's warm, welcoming smile again.

"But...if she's not here...?" Miggs starts, but Mr. Orso just motions more insistently.

Hunching his shoulders a little, Miggs moves to follow, then stops as something occurs to him. He waves a hand to get Mr. Orso's attention, then points to the doorbell. If Mrs. Orso isn't home, how had he known to open the door? "Can you hear the doorbell?" he asks, pointing from Mr. Orso to his own ear and then the doorbell as he speaks.

Mr. Orso tracks the gestures curiously, then his eyebrows lift in understanding and he grins, shaking his head. He holds up one finger and then uses it to press the button for the bell, producing a low _ding-bong_ sound. A moment later, a row of lights running horizontally along the wall near the ceiling start blinking.

" _Oh_ ," Miggs murmurs, impressed. _That's_ why the sign is there. A knock wouldn't be able to trigger the lights, but a button could. "That's pretty cool."

Looking amused, Mr. Orso motions yet again for Miggs to enter the house, and Miggs finally obliges. The place looks the same as the last time he was here, except without as much clutter. Mr. and Mrs. Orso had still been sorting through some boxes by the time he and Peter had left, a few things stacked neatly in the front hallway in preparation for getting rid of them. The boxes are no longer present, so he assumes they either made their way back to the garage or were disposed of outside of the house.

The door clicks shut behind him and he glances back at Mr. Orso, who's still smiling in amusement. He passes by Miggs, heading in the direction of the living room, waving for Miggs to follow. As he walks past, it's even more obvious that he's probably half a head shorter than Miggs, and he remembers some of the photos Mrs. Orso showed him of Peter after he reached his full height. Grinning at the camera with his parents barely reaching his chin, completely uncaring that he towers over them.

In the living room, Mr. Orso returns to a cozy-looking chair covered in papers. There's a red pen within reach and Miggs realizes the man must've been in the middle of grading, and feels even worse for intruding. He stands there awkwardly for a moment while Mr. Orso digs around in the papers surrounding his chair, then the man notices and gives a little shake of his head, the lines on his face around his smile deepening like he's trying not to laugh. He points to Miggs, then the sofa, then he holds up two fingers horizontally and brings two fingers of his other hand down on top of them perpendicularly. When Miggs doesn't move, Mr. Orso rolls his eyes and gestures with both hands from Miggs to the couch and back again, continuing to gesture between the two with increasing speed and emphasis until understanding finally breaks through Miggs' nerves and he takes a seat.

"Sorry," he whimpers quietly, even knowing the man can't hear him. Mr. Orso isn't even facing him anymore. After a quick, celebratory hand-wiggle, he had gone back to searching through his papers.

"Ah!" Mr. Orso suddenly speaks up, startling Miggs with the vocalization. He straightens, brandishing a legal pad and a bright grin. Grabbing a pen from a coffee mug sitting on the side table next to his chair, he scribbles a quick note on it. The mug says "Archaeologists Do It In The Dirt," Miggs notices before Mr. Orso shoves the pad and pen at him.

In looping cursive, Mr. Orso has written, _E's running errands, back soon. What did you need?_

"Oh, um—" Miggs starts before Mr. Orso motions insistently toward the paper. "Oh right, sorry." He shifts his grip on the pad and hovers the pen over it uncertainly. After thinking over his words for a moment, he bites his lip and writes in the same blocky script he uses in his classroom, **I wanted to ask if she would teach me how to sign.**

There's a pair of reading glasses hanging from a thin chain around Mr. Orso's neck that Miggs hadn't noticed before, and the man slips them on with one hand as he takes the pad back with the other. He reads over Miggs' words and his eyebrows lift in surprise, then he glances at Miggs consideringly. It doesn't seem _bad_ , just considering. Miggs isn't sure what to make of it.

Eyebrows furrowing, the man wipes a hand across his forehead, ending with his thumb and pinkie extended. As he's finishing the motion, Mr. Orso's eyebrows rise again and his expression clearly says he's realized his mistake. He shakes his head and waves a hand, then scrawls on the pad, _Why?_

Miggs frowns in confusion and accepts the pad when it's handed back. He'd thought it would be obvious _why_ he wants to learn the only non-written language Peter communicates in. He doesn't want Peter to always be accommodating him and his lack of understanding. He knows what it feels like to _want_ to say something and know exactly _how_ to say it, but be unable to because whoever he's talking to wouldn't understand. Hell, if the only other person in the faculty who speaks fluent _Español_ weren't such an asshole, he might actively seek out conversation with him just for the familiarity of the sounds.

He doesn't know if Peter has anyone else besides his parents who he can sign with, but...either way, he'd like to be one of those people that Peter can be himself around.

(And he wants to see Peter smile like that again. Greedily wants to see it as many times as he can.)

**I want to be able to talk to Peter.** Miggs writes, eyes darting to Mr. Orso's face as he passes the pen and paper back to the older man.

Mr. Orso adjusts his glasses and reads it over quickly, then shrugs. He gestures with one hand as if brushing away the sentence, expression dismissive. After scribbling a quick response he hands the pad over. _P hears fine now. Talk all you want._

Staring at the words, Miggs frowns, thinking it over. He glances up at Mr. Orso again, the man still looking like he couldn't care less if Peter has to put in extra effort in every conversation with him. It doesn't make sense, and Miggs looks back down at the pad, reading over their exchange to try to figure out what he's missing here.

He said he wanted to talk _to_ Peter. But...that's already something he does. He talks _to_ Peter, talks _at_ him, and while Peter never seems to mind listening to him, there's a delay when Peter wants to respond. A delay that could be avoided if Peter didn't have to do all the work.

Miggs bites his lip again as he takes the pen, then scratches a line through the "to" in his previous sentence. He adds another word in its place, underlining it, so it reads, **I want to be able to talk** **with** **Peter.**

A smile slowly makes its way to Mr. Orso's lips as he nods. Miggs is suddenly reminded yet again that the Orsos are both teachers, because Mr. Orso looks like his prize student just solved the extra credit problem that's been sitting on the board for a month. He gets the feeling he was being tested and suspects he passed. A little of the tension in his shoulders eases.

It's then that he hears the doorbell and for the first time notices another line of lights on the wall across from Mr. Orso's chair, because they start blinking. Mr. Orso glances up at them, then beams as he turns expectantly toward the entrance to the front hallway, sitting up a little straighter. The sound of the front door opening is soon followed by a plasticky rustling and quiet humming. When Mrs. Orso rounds the corner, her hands are raised to sign something and her eyebrows are furrowed. She stops abruptly, visibly startled by Miggs' appearance, and blurts out a high "Oh!"

She recovers quickly, giving him a warm smile as she moves further into the room. (He knows that smile too, and no one could doubt these people raised Peter if they just saw them emoting together.) "Well, that explains the car out front," she says, hands moving faster than her voice. "Is Peter with you?"

To the side he can see Mr. Orso shaking his head and signing something, and Miggs clears his throat and turns to face Mrs. Orso. "He's not, I came alone. Um...I actually wanted to ask you some-uh-something?"

Probably picking up on his nervous body language, Mrs. Orso tilts her head, expression concerned as she asks, "Of course. Is everything okay?"

"It's fine!" Miggs squeaks, then quickly presses a fist to his mouth and clears his throat. "I m-mean... It's... Everything's fine. I just..." He stops to breathe in deeply and slowly let it out, then stands up. Mrs. Orso is even shorter than her husband, so he stays where he is in front of the couch to avoid unintentionally towering over her.

Hands clasped in front of his stomach, Miggs asks her earnestly, "Mrs. Orso, you... Y-You said I could learn to sign. I was...um...wondering if you would be w-willing to _teach_ me?"

Mrs. Orso's eyes widen in surprise, then a grin spreads across her face and she moves forward to take his hands in hers. Her hands are warm, he notices, despite the chill outside. "I would be _delighted_ to teach you," she says, tugging gently to get him to sit next to her on the couch.

"Oh," Miggs breathes, slumping in relief. "Okay, good. I _want_ to. I-I really want to be able to talk with Peter the way you do."

"Oh you will, honey, you will," Mrs. Orso tells him, letting go of his hands so she can hold up her own. "Now watch, first lesson starts now."

Caught off guard, Miggs stammers out, "Oh! Um, o-okay?"

With one hand Mrs. Orso starts off with her thumb tucked under all her fingers except the pinkie. She switches to a loose fist with her pinkie extended. Then she holds up her thumb and index finger horizontally like she's describing something small, and gives it a little bounce. Finally she tucks her fingers into a fist with her thumb in front.

Miggs stares at her hand until it drops to her lap, then looks up at her. He recognizes those gestures from when Mr. Orso greeted him earlier. "What... _was_ all that?"

"That was fingerspelling," Mrs. Orso says, beaming. "It was your name."

Miggs' eyebrows fly up in surprise, but Mrs. Orso isn't done.

"But Peter calls you _this_ ," she tells him, holding up the first sign again: her thumb tucked under her first three fingers. Miggs tries to imitate her and is rewarded with a nod and a proud smile. "It's just an 'M' for now, but maybe later he'll give you a sign-name."

"A what?" Miggs murmurs, already feeling overwhelmed. Underneath it, though, there's a flutter of excitement at the idea that Peter has a nickname for him. It probably doesn't mean anything, Miggs would probably shorten his name even more too if he had to spell it out every time. Still, the thought persists that Peter apparently talks about him enough for that shortening to be necessary.

"A sign-name is a sort of nickname. A sign specific to you, often one that describes you in some way. For instance, _this_ ," she makes another gesture that he recognizes from his awkward interaction with Mr. Orso at the front door, "is _Peter's_ sign-name."

" _Oh_ ," Miggs says quietly. For a moment he almost feels like he's intruding on something private.

"But we're getting ahead of ourselves," Mrs. Orso tells him cheerfully. "First lesson! Let's start with the alphabet."

In his chair, Mr. Orso chuckles quietly and goes back to his grading. On the couch, Miggs begins learning Peter's language.


	22. Contacts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wild Platypus appears! And Peter is many different people, he's talented like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! That...sure was a year that happened. Yup.  
> ...  
> I'll try to get the next chapter up next week.
> 
> Also, bonus points to anyone who catches the dumb...pun? Joke? Reference? Thing that I hid in here. If anyone catches it, I'll post the next chapter before next week. ;P

Peter manages to sleep through two texts from Miggs and three OWCA summons, simply by virtue of forgetting his phone in his pants when he strips them off on the way to bed. Either he was more tired than he realized or his body is determined to make him pay off his massive sleep-debt all in one go because he doesn't wake up until his blanket is unceremoniously whipped off and he jolts upright with one hand at the ready on the gun under his pillow. Agent Platypus just stares down at him with an irritated expression, lips pressed together in a thin line.

He can feel a groan rumble around in his throat as he relaxes and rubs a hand over his face. He's idly glad he didn't bother taking off his underwear, because Platypus dislikes him enough without unintentionally getting an eyeful of all his glory.

Squinting up at the man, Peter frowns as he signs, _What?_

Platypus's expression goes sour and he tersely responds, _Working together._

He's only worked with the other agent once or twice, and only because of the man's nemesis, Dr. Doofenshmirtz. Is Heinz in trouble again? Peter's confusion must show on his face because Platypus glances around for a moment then turns back to sign at him, _Phone._

Peter's still-groggy mind pokes back at recent memory before he points to the crumpled fabric of his pants next to Platypus's foot. The man reaches down to quickly search the pockets before pulling out Peter's phone and tossing it to him without any warning. Or maybe he vocalized a warning. Either way, Peter catches the phone easily and taps the screen to wake it up. Sure enough, there are three text notifications from OWCA. He's tempted to check Miggs' texts first, but he's not sure what his face will do while he reads them, and he'd rather not risk that in front of a co-worker.

The lack of typos suggests the OWCA messages were sent by an intern, and he quickly reads them over. First is a request for his presence at the local HQ. Next is a more urgent request for his presence, informing him the meeting has begun and he has yet to either show his face or respond. Finally is a pointedly short message informing him that Agent P will be briefing him on the joint assignment.

Peter looks up at Agent Platypus again and the man raises an eyebrow as if to say "Told you so."

With a sigh, Peter drops his phone on his pillow and nods, lifting a hand to sign a quick _Yeah okay._ He rubs at his gummy eyes and idly stretches a little, bending one knee so he can rest an arm on it. There's a hint of a smirk on his lips as he looks up at Platypus again and tells him, _Unless you want to watch me get dressed..._ Then he motions toward his bedroom door.

Agent Platypus's eyebrows shoot up and a blush settles on his cheeks, but he turns and leaves the room, looking like he's doing his best to move quickly without it looking like he's retreating. With the man gone, Peter lets an amused grin stretch across his mouth before pushing himself to his feet. He does a few stretches to loosen up his sleepy muscles and grabs his hearing aids, putting them in and testing the volume on his way to pick out clothes. His wardrobe doesn't have much variety to it, so picking out a pair of dark pants and white button-up takes less time than actually getting them on.

He considers the matter of grooming, since lack of time that morning dictated he not bother with more than a quick comb through his hair after he and Miggs' shower. His stomach decides the matter, reminding him he hasn't eaten since breakfast, which was several hours ago. So he quickly finger-combs the worst of the sleep-muss from his hair and heads out of the bedroom.

Platypus is standing awkward and uncertain in his living room, having quickly run out of things to look at. An unplanned bonus to Peter's habit of living sparsely: nothing to snoop in. The other agent looks like he's bored but trying not to let on.

He passes the man without a second glance, walking straight to the kitchen and getting his coffeepot running. Platypus follows at a fair distance, frowning disapprovingly at the delay. Looking over at him, Peter holds up a mug and lifts his eyebrows questioningly.

Platypus's nose wrinkles a little, clearly not a coffee fan. Then his expression wavers and he reluctantly signs,  _Tea_. The man is so stoic it's sometimes difficult to tell if he's signing a question or a statement, but in this case there's just enough hope on his face to suggest a question.

All Peter has is a neglected box of herbal tea that came with a Christmas care package from his parents and got shoved into the back of his pantry. He digs it out and holds it up for Agent Platypus to see. It's peppermint. The man looks vaguely disappointed, as much as he ever emotes anyway, but nods. So Peter starts some water heating for tea and sets a mug and teabag aside for when it's ready.

 _You hungry?_ he asks, only looking up long enough to catch Platypus's head-shake before looking through his fridge for something he can heat up fast. He's starting to get low on make-ahead meals, he notices, and makes a mental note to do some more once he's done with this mission. Speaking of...

Pulling out some tupperware and tossing it in his microwave, Peter leans a hip against the counter while he faces Agent Platypus. _Debrief?_ he asks.

Platypus responds by pulling a thin folder from his jacket and holding it out to him. He should've expected that, Peter reflects as he takes the folder and starts flipping through. The other agent is notoriously uncommunicative, even when signing.

Quickly skimming it, the mission details suggest simple intel-gathering. Not anything he's ever needed backup for. He looks up and quirks an eyebrow at Platypus, then sets the folder down on the counter between them. With his hands free he asks, _Looks simple, why do you need me?_

If anything, Agent Platypus somehow manages to look even more disgruntled than he already was. _Need your contacts,_ he admits reluctantly.

That makes more sense. It's Platypus's mission, but Peter's resources. So not strictly a _joint_ mission, more Peter consulting on another agent's mission. That sounds much less time-consuming, and he sets aside the worry that had slowly been bubbling up that he wouldn't be able to make plans with Miggs after all. Having his weekend free is certainly an excellent motivator.

He considers his options while he opens his drawer of burner phones and pulls one out at random. He has a number of contacts, but his pool of local contacts is limited by necessity. As it is, he already has to be careful to avoid certain parts of town while out as just himself.

Goryoun "Goonie" Aslanian knows the area Platypus's leads have been sneaking around in, though Peter doubts Goonie's made a move yet of any kind. The man likes to have all the information available before he commits to something that might be risky. He also always wants a favor for a favor, which is how he stays so well-informed. Goonie doesn't currently owe Peter anything and Peter prefers not to owe him open-ended favors, so he's out.

Usually he might try Teigra, she also deals in favors but they're more often than not sexual in nature. Normally he would have no problem owing Teig one. She's attractive enough, and fun. Now that he's... officially attempting a relationship with Miggs, though, he's even less comfortable owing her than he would be owing Goonie.

The smell of brewing coffee interrupts his musings and he takes the phone with him when he returns to the coffeepot. The water on the stove is steaming too so he turns the heat off and pours it in the mug for Agent Platypus, motioning for the man to handle combining the water and teabag as he sees fit. Then he pours his own mug of coffee and returns to mentally reviewing his list of contacts.

"Omae" Hayashi could work, he thinks as he blows over the hot liquid and takes a cautious sip. It scalds his tongue a little so he sets it on the counter. Peter helped Hayashi's kid sister get home safe one time after she got roofied at a club and Hayashi's had a soft spot for him ever since. He's probably Peter's best bet for info on the group Platypus has been tracking.

The persona Hayashi knows him as is Petey Griswold, so that's who will be contacting him. Closing his eyes and leaning back against the counter, Peter lets himself sink into that role. His stance and expression shift into those of Petey, and an idle, drifting thought wonders what it looks like to Agent P. Guy's gonna fuckin' owe him one already, he better not be a douche about how Petey does his job.

He opens his eyes and hunches over the phone a little, squinting at the tiny buttons. Omae changed his number recently and Petey accidentally starts plugging in the old number before remembering that. Grumbling under his breath in annoyance, he slowly puts in Omae's new number and taps out, **yo it p**

 **Hey petey whats up?** Omae responds after a moment.

 **herd sum1 new n town mite b hirin** he answers. It's technically a lie 'cause all he knows is they're in town, but hell everyone up to no good needs some muscle, right? Petey's good at lookin' intimidating, or watchin' out for trouble, or even just lifting and carryin' heavy shit. He may be just a step or two above functionally illiterate, but he only really needs to write when he's texting about jobs. And that's texting, not writing a goddamn essay. What's it matter if he don't know how to spell, as long as he can throw a punch, right?

Omae takes his time answering and Petey uses that time to add a little sugar to his plain coffee. Okay a lot of sugar, actually, but who fuckin' cares. Agent P? Agent P's eyeing the sugar like he wants to fight Petey for it. Petey shoves it across the counter at the man, 'cause he's nice like that, and turns away to sip his coffee and check the phone. **Nah leave em alone. Theyr bad news.**

Petey just sends back a question mark and sets the phone on the counter while he drinks his coffee and waits for Omae to get back to him. Yeah, good ol' Omae was definitely the best option here. Knows what's goin' on and always willing to warn Petey away from goin' after bad jobs. Okay so maybe half the time he goes after 'em anyway, but shit, he can take care of himself.

The phone rattles against the fake marble of the counter and Petey snatches it up to see what Omae has to say. **They only hire in house. Dont like attention. Goon sent a guy over to get info & guy came back with holes in him.**

The insistent beep of the microwave startles him and Petey jumps a little. Then he grimaces, both at his reaction and because he's worked with Goonie enough he probably knows who his new (heh) "holeyman" is. **not snupin m lookn 4 a job**

**Im srs, leave it alone.**

**cn tak car myself**

**Dory likes you. Shed never forgive me if you got killed.**

Petey sighs and concedes the point, though he knew goin' in that whoever these assholes are they're dangerous. Not that Omae knows he knows. **how she doin?**

**Dating some punk shes too good for.**

With an amused snort, Petey shakes his head and taps out, **lol no1 evr gon b good enuf 4 her**

**Ha! Not my fault shes perfect.**

Petey rolls his eyes, mouth quirking up involuntarily. **lolwatevr c ya**

**Youre not going to poke around in their business?**

**:P no gon chek wantads stil nede job**

**Good luck. If you cant find anything lmk. Ill ask around.**

**thx**

So sneakin' in as hired muscle's out, but now he knows Goonie's dealt with them and he's got some leverage. Goonie doesn't know Petey, so he's gotta switch to Mecho. Might as well use the same phone, though. It's gonna get burned by the end of the day anyways.

Setting down the phone and coffee, he stretches his neck to the side until he feels a kink in it loosen, then shakes out his arms and straightens his back. He pulls himself up tight, then lets it all go in a cascade of relaxed muscles. Leaning his elbows against the counter as if it's the only thing keeping him up, Mecho crosses one leg behind the other and smirks. It's not a smirk that Petey could pull off, he doesn't have enough cunning or malice.

Letting out a slow breath, Mecho glances over at the phone and idly types in Goonie's number. **Heard one of yours got hit by some new guys.**

While he waits for a response, he takes a sip of his coffee. Then he almost spits it back out, grimacing at the sweetness. He's pretty sure there's a disgusting sludgy layer of syrup at the bottom now. Straightening enough to reach the coffeepot, he pours some more in his mug to even out the coffee to sugar ratio. He's in front of the silverware drawer so he opens it up and pulls out a spoon to stir the sugar in a bit more.

Goonie's taking his sweet time answering him and he does _not_ appreciate being kept waiting. Frowning at the phone, Mecho glances up enough to notice Agent Platypus watching him uncertainly. Mecho quirks his eyebrows in question and signs, _Problem?_

His annoyed expression, he's fairly certain, suggests there better _not_ be a problem.

Agent Platypus, smart cookie that he is, quickly shakes his head and turns his attention back to his tea.

The phone buzzes then and Mecho glances back at it to read Goonie's message: **Who is this?**

Disappointingly short, but understandable. Goonie doesn't give out _any_ information for free. **Mecho. Heard you sent someone to snoop and they didn't appreciate it.**

This time Goonie's response is much quicker. **None of your business.**

**Making it my business. Got an offer for you.**

In the pause after he sends the text, Mecho imagines Goonie staring at the phone with a frown on his face. Staring and frowning and thinking it over. **I'm listening.**

Mecho smirks again. There's no harm in listening to an offer, he's sure Goonie is justifying to himself. **You tell me where, I do the snooping and report back.**

 **And what do you get?** Goonie asks, probably thinking the deal's much too good.

**I get to snoop.**

**You're just after info?**

**I think we both know how valuable information can be.** Mecho replies, then takes a minute to sip his coffee while he waits. It'll take Goonie a while to mull it over, trying to figure out whether he gets the better deal here or if Mecho's trying to pull one over on him. Technically he is, but not the way Goonie might suspect.

**Sounds fair. You feeling ok?**

Mecho chuckles at that. While usually he wouldn't mind trying to get the upperhand out of a deal with Goonie, he's pretty sure there's no way around them both getting what they want this time. **Just want to get to know the new neighbors. Give them a warm welcome. Drop off a casserole.**

Let Goonie think it's a territory thing. Mecho's pretty small-time, any potential threat to what he has is cause for concern. Someone new in town is a potential threat.

Goonie must not be able to find fault with the arrangement, because his next text is just an address.

Taking one more sip of his coffee, Mecho sets the mug down and straightens from his lazy slouch against the counter. Closing his eyes, he breathes in deeply and Peter slowly lets it out. Picking up his mug again, Peter cautiously takes a sip and then makes a face, sticking his tongue out a little. Christ, why did he ever think it was a good idea to give his fake identities coffee preferences different from his own? He sets the mug down again, giving it up as a lost cause for now.

Shaking off the remnants of Petey and Mecho still lurking in his mind, Peter picks up the phone and on his way back to the microwave shoves it into Platypus's hands. Startled, the other agent fumbles with it a little before clutching it to his chest, watching Peter take his meal out and stir it with the spoon he used on his coffee earlier. Once he feels it's sufficiently stirred, he takes a small bite. Warm enough, he decides, and follows it with a bigger bite.

Leaving the spoon in the dish, Peter points to the phone and asks, _How's that?_

Platypus's eyebrows lift and he glances down at the phone in his hands, then starts scrolling through the two conversations on it. While he reads them over, Peter takes the opportunity to finally give in to his stomach's demands and starts scarfing down his food. When Platypus looks up again, he gives a single nod of assent. Peter resists the urge to sarcastically wave his hands in celebration.

 _Now what?_ he asks, deferring to the man since it's technically Platypus's case.

Platypus holds up the phone and points to the last text on it, the address. Peter assumed that would be the case, now it's just a matter of when. He can guess that much too, but he asks anyway.

Adjusting his OWCA-issue hat at a presumably more business-like angle, Platypus replies, _Now._

Face blank, Peter takes another bite and doesn't bother to move. While he chews, he sets the spoon down to free his hands. _When I'm done eating,_ he corrects.

Platypus's expression is briefly mutinous, but he finally slumps against the counter and nods. Peter hides a smile behind his spoon.

**Author's Note:**

> Tags will be updated as necessary. If you see something I've missed, please let me know so I can toss it in there. :)


End file.
